Rule by Shadow
by LuoRider
Summary: Haunted by a shattered dream, Chun-Li receives one final chance to piece together the tatters of her heart.
1. Chapter 1

            Alright! First chapter finished in my first Street Fighter fanfic! I hope you enjoy it, and please don't hesitate to tell me your thoughts on the story. Any reviews are greatly appreciated :)!

            Darkness.

            Darkness and shadow as far as the eye could see.

            The sky was blanketed by it.

            The air was stained with it.

            The earth— muffled and oppressed by the heaven's blinding tears.

            It fell.

            It fell upon her— down upon the ruffled dark-brown strands of her hair, down through to the thin curves and elegant features of her nose, down still to the frigid and numb-with-cold surfaces of her slightly pale cheeks, and down finally to hang timid and precarious on the very edge of her slender chin. The rain fell thick all around, dribbling upon the crackled cement and dilapidated pavements, splashing chaotically around street corners and avenue lanes before stopping to bleed almost reluctantly into the rusted metal gratings of ancient sewage drains. 

            She blinked the water away from the fringes of her dark-auburn eyes. Did the skies of the day cry with her? It was there again: that familiar feeling which would always coarse through her blood, through her veins, through her soul before any major engagement. A feeling of sudden savagery; the unprovoked desire to lash out against anything and everything in the world around her. She was ashamed of it, but at the same time was desirous of it to the point of greed. Undoubtedly it was what had already gotten her this far in the Street Fighter tournament, and she wanted it— needed it— for just a tiny bit more. This was for herself… and for her father. 

            Her father.

            "One more." She whispered harshly to herself, listening to the open violence of the words with a sickening sense of shame and self-disgust. No. Stop. Don't think of it. This was simply one more. One more fight to win. One more opponent to defeat. One more until Bison.

            The rain fell relentlessly, beating down hard upon the ground in a steady wave of discordant percussion blasts. _Rat-a-tat-tat_. She peered forwards through the mist of water to the hazy silhouette of her opponent standing across on the opposite end of the street. It was a man— fairly tall and well-built, sporting a blood red-bandana around his forehead and clothes as white as snow. His name was Ryu. 

She stood stock still, her breaths coming in short bursts, her muscles tense with anxiousness. Ryu. She knew of him. A renowned martial arts master traveling the world in search of fights and worthy opponents. A quirky life-style to be sure, but she was not here to judge him; she was here to defeat him. And she _would_ defeat him. All the training, the years at Interpol, fighting thugs, busting up drug deals, investigations of Shadowloo, waiting, waiting, more waiting. Now this. An open shot at Bison. A final chance to destroy him once and for all. She was ready this time, and she _would_ win. She had to. For her father's sake. 

            "Are you ready?"

            The sharp, clear-cut voice of the mediator awakened her from the stream of half-dozing thoughts on which she had settled, setting her back onto the broken, run-down city street on which the semi-finals would be fought. She gave a final look about her, studied the uneven pavement, the broken cement, the chipped concrete of the battlefield, and squared herself into her fighting position. She nodded. 

            An uneasy silence swept through the scene. She stood there in absolute concentration, eyeing her opponent, ignoring the steady stream of raindrops which beaded down her face and splattered upon her dress. The blue cloth pasted itself firmly against her skin, having been rendered heavy by the flood of water which splashed all around. She waited intently, listening for the shout which would finally signal the match's beginning.

            "Then FIGHT!"

            And she was off, moving quicker than she had ever moved, running faster than she had ever ran. Her pent up anger, frustration, hate— it was released in one sudden burst of malevolent will, fueled by her savage desire to get to the man who killed her father. She madly ran at her opponent— a human blur attacking with blinding speed, charging with all the ferocity of a raging bull. Her blood sped up. Her breaths quickened. Her fist pulled back into the ferocious punch which would surely end the fight in one decisive blow…

            And he stepped aside. Dodging deftly to the left, he swung his arms fiercely to the side, back-handing her a violent blow to the head as she charged on past. She gave a cry of pain as she was knocked forwards, falling down roughly onto the concrete of the street. 

But she was back up almost immediately. Hitting the ground rolling, she shielded her face and leapt to her feet just in time to intercept another punch from her opponent. Catching the fist in mid-air, she twisted to the side and gave a quick knee to the chest. He reeled back momentarily stunned, allowing her the time to quickly spin around into the position of a hand-stand.

            "Spinning Bird Kick!"

            Kicking her legs upwards, she twisted her body and laid into him with a series of helicopter kicks to the face. He fell backwards to the ground, but caught himself in mid-air and backward somersaulted onto his feet.

            "Yahhhhh!"

            She charged him again, launching a flurry of quick punches and kicks to keep on the pressure. Left. Right. Left. Right. Once again he was ready for the assault, and easily dodged or blocked the storm of attacks which beset him from all sides. The onslaught was ferocious but uncontrolled. An opening. All he needed was an opening. Side-stepping one kick to the right, he leaped upwards into the air. She froze. It was too late.

            "Hurricane kick!"        

For a split instant time seemed to slow to a crawl. She could see him sailing lazily through the air— face contorted, leg outstretched, flaming red bandana flying wild in the breeze. And she could see herself too: defenseless, surprised, a little girl frozen in place and time as the memories and hopes of a past and future slowly shattered into a million pieces. She saw herself drawing backwards in startled terror, her eyes wide open in fear, vainly trying to avoid the storm of kicks which surged mercilessly forwards.

And then the blows fell. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Each kick struck with a singular power, raining relentlessly upon her face and head with all the force of a mighty peal of rolling thunder. She heard herself scream, heard the notes and echoes of her yells and cries mingle and disappear into the torrent and shrieks of the encircling wind. Red… red… so much red… Her neck snapped backwards, her body crumpled to the ground, her head banged against the concrete with all the helplessness of a discarded rag doll.

            "Father…"

            A long, tortuous groan escaped the threshold of her lips as she lay upon the chipped pavement of the ancient street— unable to see, unable to feel, unable to move her legs at all. Red… red… red all around… she couldn't see. The cold drops of rain continued to beat relentlessly down, the water now draining upon the shadows of the street to mix and bleed with the syrupy liquid of her own blood. A million colors danced bright upon the threshold of her mind; a hundred voices cried out in the depths of her ears. She… she couldn't move. It was over, wasn't it?

            "… daddy… baba…"

            No. It wasn't over. It couldn't be over. Not now. Not then. Not like this! Not when she had come so close! She forced herself to move her arm, crying out in pain when the sharp feeling of burning fire ripped through her arm like the heated points of a thousand needles. Get up. Get up. Get up! With one violent motion she twisted herself upon her belly, biting her lip to restrain the scream which sounded aloud in her head. She pushed herself upwards. So… so much blood. Her tears rinsed the red liquid away from her eyes, allowing her to see the pool of dark crimson in which she so helplessly lay. Oh god… too much… it was too much… Her hands quivered, her arms gave way; she cried out as the warm drops splashed violently against her face. How… how could she?

            "Don't over exert yourself."

And suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder; a touch at once both gentle yet firm, strong yet delicate. She knew who it was right away.

"Relax. I'm going to help you. The match is over."

No! It wasn't over yet! Not yet! She spun wildly around to face him, screaming out with all the pain and anger of her soul and body. She wouldn't lose! She wouldn't! The pain shot wildly threw her arms as she punched outward with all her remaining strength, drawing forth a sharp gasp of air from her quivering lips. The tears flowed unrelentingly forward, spilling down her cheeks, mixing with the rain and dirt of her blood-soaked garments. She had to fight on. She had to… for her father's sake… for her father's memory… she had to…

            And then the world blurred. Her breathing became shallow and staggered; the screams of her voice drowned out into a silence of nothingness. She could still feel herself punching. Punching. Punching. Ever punching. But at what? The punches stopped. An arm was suddenly cradling her head. A hand was wiping away the tears and blood of her eyes. And then she was being lifted up into the air, high up by a force she could neither see nor feel. The light faded. The day ended. The night closed in…

            Chun-Li opened her eyes. The pale-golden shine of the early morning sun filtered in through the glass of a nearby windowpane, bathing the small, rather cramped bed chambers in a halo of soft yellow light. The golden morning seemed to be almost reluctant as it extended its glowing fingers gingerly across the room, as if suddenly ashamed at having awakened the figure of the lone girl who lay reposing quietly upon the small, make-shift wooden cot tucked cozily into the corner.

She blinked. So bright… why did it always have to be so bright in the mornings? The sun was always her enemy during those first few seconds after awakening, shamelessly taunting her clouded sleep-ridden mind with the cursed rays of its overly optimistic sun-shine. Pushing herself upwards with a slow sluggish groan, she desperately fought the urge to fling herself back onto bed and sleep the day away.

"Come on Chun." She moaned softly to herself as she forced one foot upon the floor,  "It's time to get up. Rise and shine."

It was of no use. The omnipotent powers of sleep quickly overwhelmed her futile resistances in a matter of moments, and she found herself once again on the mattress of her bed. Ughhh. It was almost always like this in the mornings. She hated it. Oh how she hated it.

"Get up. Get up Get up! Too much sleep is bad for you." 

So spoke her mind. Her body, however, seemed just fine with forever languishing lazily under the cover of the blankets. What time was it? The alarm bell hadn't rang yet. Maybe she could sneak in a few more moments of precious sleep time before she was forced to truly get up? Yes, that sounded reasonable. Tilting her head upwards, she threw a dazed glance towards the rusted mechanical clock which stood ever ticking on the wooden surface of her bed-stand nearby.

            10:15.

            "Oh no!" 

She fairly leapt out from under her blankets. Ten-fifteen?! Why hadn't the alarm bell sounded?! Leaping down violently upon the hard-wood floor, she gazed about herself in a dazed and confused manner. Oh! There was no time now! She was late! Oh was she ever late! Sprinting over to the dresser, she quickly tore off her nightgown with one violent motion, replacing the soft cotton with the warmer fabric of a brown, coarse-knit sweater. She muttered angrily to herself as she fumbled around for a pair of jeans, verbally kicking herself for relying on that piece of crap clock in the first place.

            "Not even time for a bath." She sighed forlornly to herself as she picked up a comb and sloppily worked it through the dark-brown strands of her ruffled sleep-damaged hair. It had never been too difficult for people to tell when she had had a good nights sleep; the condition of her hair said it all. On days directly following the peacefulness of a restful slumber, her hair was always shiny and vivid— at the absolute peak of its possible performance. On nightmarish nights when she would spend her hours tossing and turning, however, her hair would oftentimes transform into nothing more than an entangled ball of chaotic messiness. In the mornings she would try to comb it down it was sure, but sometimes it was beyond the limits of possible salvation.

            And speaking of nightmares…

            A slight frown of displeasure slowly furrowed itself over the lines of her brows. Nightmares… there had been something there during the course of the night. She could vaguely remember something; a feeling— an expression of intense pain from the deepest recesses of her mind. That dream… what had it been about? She couldn't quite recall it now. During the nighttime it had been so vivid, so full of the seeds of human emotion— anger, fear, desperation— it had all been there. Now there was barely a slight tinge of leftover memory remaining to evidence its existence at all. 

It didn't really matter. She could lay a fair guess on what the dream had been about anyway. Undoubtedly it had been the same nightmare which had haunted her repeatedly for the past few months. Nightmare? No, not so much a nightmare as a memory. A memory of her final assignment as an agent of Interpol.

            "What a way to go out." She remarked sarcastically to herself, twisting her hair into two braided buns which she neatly tied down with a pair of ribbons. That hadn't been too long ago. The day still stood vividly in her mind— a memory to forever burn imprinted in the darkest reaches of her consciousness. She had been too overconfident; too sure of herself; too much filled with the lusts of her own ambitions to fight with a clear and steady mind. That wasn't the way her father had taught her. Her father would have chastised her. Her father would have disapproved…

            "I'm sorry baba…" She sighed, brushing away a creeping tear from the corners of her eyes. Great. She was getting emotional again. When was she going to stop crying? The past was over and done with. Nothing would ever change how events had unfolded on that fateful day. And just what exactly was she so upset about anyway? Bison was dead; the drug ring of the Shadowloo empire destroyed and scattered into a million pieces. Interpol couldn't have asked for a more satisfying way to end the conflict.

            And yet… and yet…

            A deep unsettling feeling still lay buried deep within her. All those years at Interpol… what had it all been for? All those exhaustive afternoons spent in the office under mountains of paper, those sleepless nights of endless tossing and turning, the seemingly infinite hours of training— had they really meant anything? The hand that struck down Bison had not belonged her; it had belonged instead to a wandering warrior by the name of Ryu…

            "Ryu."

            And it all came back to him. How long had it taken him to utterly destroy the very foundation upon which her life had been built upon? Chun-Li bit down on her lip, fought the wave of violent fury which swelled deep inside her. No. There was no need to be mad at him. He was after all only another contestant who had participated in the Street Fighter tournament; an innocent unaware of the true nature of the tournament or of the sinister organization which acted as host. What could he possibly have known about her feelings; what could he have possibly hoped to understand about the helpless sense of desperation she felt as she writhed in that crimson pool of her own blood? And yet the fact still remained…

            "Never-mind…" She sighed to herself, shaking the thought away as she quickly finished up her hair. It wasn't worth thinking about it. The past was in the past, right? What would fretting possibly accomplish? A slight smile crept upon her features as she headed for the door. All that mattered was the present, and presently she was happy, right? She had a place here— a normal life with a normal job away from all the chaos and turbulence of an average day at Interpol. What more could she ask for?

            Chun-Li breathed out a deep sigh of relief as she stepped a foot out into the cold glare of the Chinese winter sun. It was a beautiful day.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"No, she's not here yet."

            The old school-house matron slowly shook her head as she eyed the stranger with a glare of wary distrust, secretly noting with an air of disdain the various tinkerings and particularities of his appearance. A black close-knit vest,  polished dress shoes, plaited tie, slicked back hair— ooh these city boys just thought they were **_soooo_** sophisticated didn't they? Always trying so hard to show off their damned superiority to rural folk like her.

            "She's not here?" the stranger furrowed his eyebrows in evident displeasure, flashing an anxious glance towards the **_obviously_** over-priced watch on his wrist. 

            "That's what I said."

            "Do you know when she'll be in, then?"

            "How would I know?" she glared at him, not caring enough to hide the obvious tone of annoyance present in her voice, "She's already two hours late as it is. Probably decided to sleep in or something."

            "Two hours late?" He couldn't help but give a slight chuckle at the thought, "Two hours? Wow. That doesn't sound like Chunny at all."

The ancient matron slowly narrowed her eyes, making sure the well-dressed stranger could clearly distinguish the visible hostility in her gaze. Just who did this guy think he was? Swaggering in here all cocked up in his polished shoes and pressed clothing, so very obviously trying to convey the splendor of his perceived urban superiority. The children were impressed it was sure— quickly abandoning their games of tag, policeman, and hide-n-seek to come and peer at the absurdly expensive lump of metal on his wrist— but she wouldn't be so easily fooled. These city boys were leeches— evil, malignant parasites which crawl out from their stank, polluted brothels from time to time in order to suck the countryside dry. She had seen it happen way too many times. Talented young men and women become so easily enamored by the leeches' false luxuries and run off to live in those gigantic cesspools of crime and sin. The countryside was rapidly being drained of its labor pool. 

"At any rate she isn't here." The ancient matron made sure to hiss out each syllable with as hostile a tone as possible, "Now would you please leave? You're distracting the students."

"Actually, if its alright with you, I'd like to wait for just a while longer." He smiled— the most innocent of childlike grins, tactfully designed to win over the heart of the frigidly cold matron. She, however, was not impressed.

"Mr. Jiang… understand— I cannot sacrifice the education of these poor children to cater to your own personal desires. If you really wish to speak to her then I suggest you go…"

"I won't be a bother." He hastily interrupted, desperately trying to summon the full force of his boyish charms. "The children won't even know I'm here." Come on… how hard could it possibly be to get on the good side of a wrinkly old hag with no sex life? 

"I can't do that, Mr. Jiang. The children…"

"Look, I'll even stay out here in the courtyard. Playtime is almost over, right? They can't see me once they're inside the building."

"Mr. Jiang…"

"I won't make any noise whatsoever. I swear. They won't hear a thing."

            The old matron contorted her features, hoping beyond hope that the deathly chill of her eyes would be enough to drive the outsider away. Hmmph. Once these city boys set their minds to something it was impossible to stop them. They were determined to get their way no matter **_how_** inconvenient or utterly harmful it was to the people around them. Selfish jerks. And this one was **_especially_** bad— a true king among jerks. Oh how she hated them all.

            "Fine." she grudgingly consented, violently spitting the words out over the grinding of teeth, "But I warn you Mr. Jiang, if I see that the children are even slightly affected by your… swagger… I will be quite… upset."

            He grinned. Damn overconfident bastard.

            "No worries."

The golden tinge of the morning sun softly shined down on the white-washed carpet of the surrounding environs, reflecting off crystalline ice formations and day-old snowflakes to encompass the small, rather humble courtyard in a brilliant aura of sparkling yellow light. Hou Jiang breathed out a deep sigh of relief as he turned away from the frigidly sharp eyes of the still-glaring matron, not wishing to have to speak with the hostile woman any more than was absolutely necessary. Damn. Where the hell was Chun-Li? Interpol expected him back in Beijing by early next morning, and at this rate he wouldn't even be able to catch the six o'clock train…

_Tinkle-tinkle._

            The tinny ring of an old-fashioned hand-bell signaled the end of break period, calling the groaning masses of disappointed children back to the boring tedium of regular classes. They were all young children— four to six years of age at most—, rosy cheeked little kids clad in worn out hand-me-down pants and itchy home-stitched sweaters. Cute. Very cute. Chun-Li always liked children. It came as no surprise that she was volunteering at some run-down pre-school like this. 

            "Chunny… it'll be good to see you again." Hou smiled to himself as he leisurely leaned his weight against the red-bricked surface of a nearby wall. How long had it been? Not too long; only a few months at the most. Still he found that he already missed having the auburn-eyed Interpol agent around. Without her the offices seemed strangely… barren; the never-ending heaps of paperwork became a thousand times more difficult to shift through. She had always seemed to infuse a kind of energy to the place— a force which made working at Interpol at least somewhat "fun." And besides…

            "She's fine as hell." Hou grinned devilishly to himself as he stared across the white, snow-covered expanse of the court-yard to the small arched gateway which served as entrance onto school property. Still no sign of her. Since when was Chun-Li ever late? She's waaaaay too much of a workaholic to be **_this_** late. Bending down to the ground, he gathered a handful of the left-over powder into his hands. It was good snow. Soft… wet… cold… perfect for packing. Too bad there wasn't anyone around. 

Giving an impatient sigh to the frigid morning air, he absent-mindedly began rolling the snow into the perfect projectile. To be completely honest, he was kinda nervous about seeing her again. How would she react? It wasn't as if they had a bad relationship together… well… maybe… they sort of did at times. It was often hard to tell with the two of them. She either completely loved him or desperately hated him. It was one or the other… or both. Heh. It was really pretty hard to tell. He wasn't even going to try.

_Tap-tap._

            The sound of fast approaching footsteps startled him, awakening him from the stream of semi-conscious ramblings on which his mind had floated. Huh? Was that finally her? Yes, from across the courtyard he saw her— legs racing, face flushed, a half-eaten pork bun gripped tightly in her hands. Hou grinned. She was just as he remembered. Cute.

            "Heads up, Chunny!"

            _SMACK!_

The snowball hit with quite a bit more force than he had intended, exploding on her face in a cold shower of powder and ice. She cried out in pain and surprise, falling upon one knee as the force of the impact threw her violently backwards. Heh heh. Oops. Not a good way to start any reunion.

            "You alright, Chunny?" He stifled his chuckle, barely able to hold back the open laughter which danced upon his lips. "Sorry about that… accident. No hard feelings, huh? It was just a little jo…" 

            _WHACK!_

And before he could finish he found himself down on the snow, the innards of a partially-eaten _baozi _sprayed rather unceremoniously across his fine-knit custom-made designer vest. Shit. He'd forgotten just how hard that girl could throw. From the ground… with the remnants of a pork bun… aughh… it still hurt like hell. It was a true blessing that no one else was around to see this.

            "Need some help?"

            And suddenly she was bending over him, a smug grin painted lavishly across her otherwise delicate features. Heh. Her whole face was bright red. At least he'd gotten her good.

            "Who needs help recovering from your weak-ass throws?" he responded with a smile, forcibly ignoring the violent pounding in his head as he pushed himself upwards, "See? I'm fine. It might've hurt if you actually had some power in your throws."

            "Inspector Jiang… still as childish as ever." Chun-Li gave a short chuckle, mockingly rolling her eyes at the arrogance of the inspector, "I wonder if you'll ever grow up?"

            "Ouch. What a harsh way to greet someone. And here I was expecting hugs and kisses from my good friend."

            "Good friend?" she grinned, "I _hate _you."

            "Pssst. That's what you always say. But we both know what the real truth is, don't we?" he flashed her a teasing wink, "Why not just come on out and admit it?"

            "Admit what?" 

"That you think I'm dead SEX-SAY!"

            "Not very likely, Hou." She gave a short laugh, playful punching the cocky Interpol agent in the arm, "In your dreams, maybe."

            Heh heh. If only she knew how close to the truth that statement was…

            "Anyways," He gave a slow, drawn-out yawn, leisurely stretching his arms out into the cold frigidity of the frosty morning air, "Listen… you up for taking a walk? Just the two of us. Wouldn't want all this sun to go to waste."

            "Oh," she stopped, a slight frown suddenly returning to take the place of her teasing smile. "Maybe later. I really have to get going to the…"

            "Chunny, Chunny, Chunny. You'd refuse me after I came all the way here to see you?"

            "Sorry, Hou." She gave a short sigh, "I really have to go **_now._** If you meet me here at around five..."

            "Always the responsible little girl." Hou grinned, his tone marked with a definite air of teasing condescension, "Why always put duty in front of everything else? If you're already two hours late, what's another hour going to change?"

            "I have a resp…"

            "Yes. Yes. Responsibility. That's your excuse for everything. Even at Interpol I would say 'would you like to go out for dinner with me tonight, Chunny?' and you would reply 'sooooorry, Hou, I have to work overtime to take down Shadowloooo,' or 'sooooooory, Hou, I must go over these papers on Shadowloooo,' or  'soooooooooorry, Hou, I'd rather spend my night training so I'm ready for Shadowloooooo!'"

            "Maybe you just need a better work ethic." She remarked dryly.

            "Huh. And maybe you need to learn how to loosen up a little."

            "I will… just as soon as I get my father back."

            He stopped, forcibly controlling himself from going any further. A line had been crossed— a stripe drawn all too clearly in the pure white powder of the late day-old snow— and he was all too eager to jump back across. Chun-Li's motivations, the real incentives for her passion— it was no secret to either Hou or the other agents of Interpol. Hate. Revenge. Retribution. An obsession bordering on insanity.  A violent need to destroy the destroyer. Her life had been bound to Interpol, her existence fused with the endless searching's, investigations, inquiries of the hated organization. And so as Shadowloo had faded away so too had her desire to fight. Was she finally happy, now? Had she finally obtained her revenge? Somehow, he doubted that.

            "You never cease to amaze me, Chunny."            He clicked his tongue, flashed a smile to defuse the air of built-up tension, "So you won't take a walk with me?"

            "You know my answer." she shook her head, "The school matron is…"

            "Oh her? Don't worry about her. I've handled it."

            "… she's very strict."

            "Relax Chunny. You really think any woman can handle my sophisticated charms?"

            "But you don't have any charms." Chun-Li giggled, unable to suppress a burst of laughter at the thought. She had to admit, if nothing else, he really knew how to lighten a conversation.

            "Jealous?" He gave her a teasing nudge, "At any rate, I was able to persuade her in giving us an hour of time together. Why not make the most of it?"

            "Really?" she hesitated, "Are you lying to me, Hou?"

            " 'Course not, Chunny." He flashed an innocent smile. "Wouldn't dream of it." 

            Damn. He was such a bastard. He knew he was a bastard. She knew he was a bastard. Probably every person he had ever met knew he was a bastard. Still, the lie was at least somewhat justified in this case; there was no chance in hell the matron would **actually** set aside that kind of time for her to speak to **him**. And besides, if worst came to worst, it would be **her** fault for not remembering what a bastard he truly was. Still bearing that self-same grin smugly upon his features, he very chivalrously offered her his arm.

            "Well… shall we go?"

            A tundra… a field of ice and snow as far as the eye could see. Rice fields,  meadows, pasturelands— soon to be so full of the energy of the coming Springtime: a fair chorus of newborn vigor and blossoming farm life all rising to sing in anticipation of the lush Summer harvest. But now the land lay barren— its inhabitants hiding— the fallow soil of the Winter earth sleeping peaceably under a thick layer of pallid frost. The frozen farmland stretched for miles, extending for what seemed like an eternity into the far off distance before stopping finally to merge together with the crystal clarity of the overhanging heavens. It was truly a sight.

            Chun-Li stared off into the distant horizon, face still flushed from the biting cold, arms intertwined tightly around those of her former Interpol work partner. She was just being friendly— a little gesture playfully catering to Hou's subtle wishes—  but anyone else who witnessed the two of them together would have thought them a couple— two young lovers brimming with the full passion of vibrant youthful adoration. Together they trod along the frozen dirt pathway, silent, unassuming, neither daring to speak for fear of breaking the aura of peaceful quiet which descended over the scene.

            Presently she turned to him, flashed a quick glance towards the cocky Interpol agent who strolled leisurely beside her. Hou… why was he even here? For what reason did he travel all this way? Just to visit her? No. She doubted it. No matter how sweet and utterly adorable he pretended to be, the truth was that Hou was a jerk… the type of person who wouldn't make the effort to visit just anyone simply for reminiscing. There was another reason.

            "Wow. Your hair sure is nappy today." He was the first to break the silence, turning to her with that same usual grin painted across his features, "Bad nights sleep?"

            "You could say that."

            "Well… I kind of like it this way." He patted her head, "Why d' you always keep your hair all tied up in those ribbons, anyway? Why not let it all hang down for a change?"

            "Oh I **do**, Hou." She grinned at him. "You just never happen to see me when I go off on one of my wild sex rampages." 

            "Damn." He gave a nervous laugh, jokingly snapping his fingers to the frosty morning air, "So that's what I've been missing all these years."

            Another silence. He was trying to say something. She could tell. He just didn't know how to phrase it… how to put the words together in a persuasive and believable manner. What was it? Why had he come here?

            "It's kind of strange you know." He finally spoke up, "I never imagined you to be the rural village-type girl."

            "Oh?"

            "I mean… you living… here? In some no name village smack dab in the center of Henan province? Wow."

            "That surprises you?" she glanced at him, "Why?"

            "Why? After all the places you've been to… all those sprawling metropolises— Beijing, Chicago, New York,— why be content with a village like this?" A slight frown furrowed his brows, "For crying out loud, Chunny! There's nothing here!"

            "There's the children. They…"

            "Yes, of course. How could I forget about all those poor poor children?" he rolled his eyes, "But shit Chunny, its like living two hundred years back in the past!" 

            "I'm fine here." She replied calmly, "Besides, the place isn't without its charms."

            "What charms? I didn't see any charms."

            "Like that…" she pointed out towards the horizon, "Don't you think that's impressive?"

            "But shit, Chun-Li!" He ripped his arm away, threw both his hands up in the air in exasperation, "Most places don't even have electricity, here! How do you manage to keep warm in the winter?"

            "There are these things called fireplaces you know." She grinned at him, "And I have a place here…"

            "What place? A place as an assistant teacher at that run-down trash of a…"

            He stopped, his lips frozen in mid-sentence by Chun-Li's sharp glare. Damn. That girl could kill you with her stares. Even at Interpol… he could still recall more than one occasion when she choked him with his own words.

            "That's just the problem with you, Jiang." She replied rather curtly, resting both hands on her hip in annoyance, "You never think of anyone but yourself."

"Please. You sound exactly like my mother. All I'm suggesting is… why not just let the educational system work for…"

"It doesn't reach this far out into the countryside, Hou." She gave a forlorn sigh, brushing a loose lock of dark-brown hair away from her eyes, "And most of the residents here haven't had a proper education themselves. They… need me."

            "Huh. So you can teach these children how to kick the asses of people like me?"

            She smiled. "Among other things…"

            "Whatever, Chunny." He sighed in exasperation, folding his arms across his chest in a symbol of defiant acceptance, "But if it were me… I wouldn't be able to stand having to boil water every time I took a bath."

            "Not that you take any, anyways." She laughed, "I always could smell you from my little office down the hall."

            "Chunny, Chunny, Chunny. Still as sharp as ever." He flashed that familiar grin. "Who's being childish now?"

            They proceeded onwards, trudging through the wintry wonder-land of the countryside. Presently the snow became thicker— a chunky paste which clung tenaciously to the boots, forcing the two to occasionally stop by the road and scrape some of the stuff off. How long had they been walking? She didn't care anymore. Strolling like this; chatting with Hou… it felt good. Maybe… maybe it was ok to take some time off for herself from time to time.

            "We all miss you down at Interpol." Hou spoke in a died down tone, again breaking the chain of silence, "You know we'd all love to have you back."

            Chun-Li didn't say anything. Is this what he had come to talk about?

            "And of course the higher ups would love to have you back as well. You know you're one of our best."

            "Sorry Hou," she started, giving a tired sigh to the atmosphere, "I'm done with Interpol."

            "But why?" he raised his head to look at her, "Why? Look at yourself. You're still only in your mid-twenties. Why throw in the towel and retire at such a young age?"

            She stared down at the frosted dirt of the ground, fought the wave of cruel emotion which swelled through her, seeking to overtake and swallow her whole. What would he know? What would he know even if she tried to explain it? There used to be a time when she herself believed she was fighting for justice; fighting for a world where there would be no more evils like Shadowloo to frighten little girls and take away their fathers. But the real truth never appeared clearer than on the day she left: she hadn't been fighting for a just and noble cause after all. She had only been fighting for herself. Fighting for an end to her pained memories of her father's death. Fighting for an end to the tremendous feelings of sadness, rage, and guilt which haunted her every single day. Once Shadowloo was gone, what was there left to fight for?

            "Interpol sent you, didn't they?" she spoke at length, raising her head to meet the eyes of the inspector. "They want me back."

            "For one mission, specifically." He studied her carefully, looking her up and down for any signs of satisfaction or anger, "Something's come up." 

            "Oh?"

"Recently Interpol received information that a certain man has been invited to a reception hosted by what we know to be a shady Shanghai criminal organization. An investigation now could yield valuable…"

            "You can spare me the details, inspector." She interrupted, holding a hand up to stop him, "I won't do it."

            "Oh? Not even going to let me finish?" He grinned at her.

            "There's no need to. My mind's already made up."

            "Then perhaps I can change it." Hou cleared his throat. "There is a reason why you were picked for this assignment, you know. This man who you are to investigate… I'm sure you are already acquainted with him. Want to take a wild guess on who it is? A wandering warrior… the champion of the Street Fighter Tournament… single-handedly destroyed Bison…"

            She froze. Wha— what? How… how could…

            "You don't look very confident about your decision now, Chunny." He laughingly remarked, "Your journey… it's not over yet. Not when I tell you his name is Ryu."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

            She could vaguely see it in her mind. A mist… a haze which surrounded everything in an indistinct blanket of invisible shadow— a scene almost unreal, as if straight out of the pages of a fantastic picture-book. The image itself was rather clear. There was the path, the dirt road, the rows of trees flanked by grass and the two people who walked alongside it— father and daughter, the older looming above the younger like the ever dominating figure of an age-old tree— a parent tenderly watching over the new-born spruce which sprang up from under it. But the sensations… the smells, the sounds, the feeling of the fresh spring breeze coolly whipping through her long brown hair… these she couldn't sense anymore; long since had they fallen away to the twists and ravages of time. But the picture was still there, and as long as there was a picture there was still a memory… still a dream on which to fly to the precious moments of times long past.

            "Well well. Aren't you the energetic little girl today."

            Her father smiled down at her, grinning with the full blossom of adoring fatherly affection. He reached down to pat her head, only to be greeted with a chorus of sweet laughter as she deftly dodged his touch.

            "Who are you gathering those for?"

            She skipped along at his side, giggling, laughing... a fair little pixie dancing to the silent music of the blossoming springtime. Every now and then she would bend to pick a flower from the vivid greenery of the surrounding grass, and add it to the already burgeoning assortment of whites, reds, and yellows which rested in her little arms.

            "Who are you gathering those for?" he repeated, this time succeeding in rubbing his hand lovingly in his daughter's hair, "For me?"

            "No silly!" she giggled— the perfect little imp, "These are for mama!"

            "For mama eh?"

            "Yep, for mama! Do you think she'll like them?"

            "Of course." He laughed, "She always did like flowers."

            She always did like flowers. Flowers in the Spring. Flowers in the Summer. Flowers in the Fall. Even in Winter, when the cold hand of the winter snow would mercilessly descend over the frozen tundra of the barren earth, cruelly choking back any signs of life which still remained, even then she managed to keep a few stray blossoms alive in the warm confines of their apartment home. And now… even now she was still receiving flowers. These were blossoms from her little daughter— the sweetest and most beautiful flower of them all.

            "We **are**going to visit mama after this, right?" she spoke now, peering upwards at him with those same cute little eyes, "We are right? You promised!"

            "Of course, Li-Li. Of course."

            He smiled at her, that same smirk he always used to comfort her when she got upset. Ever since she was a little babe she had relied on her mother for strength and support… just as much as her mother had relied on her. During all those missions for Interpol— those long stretches of time when he was away from home— she needed someone to be there for her. Things had worked out, then. Her mother was a friend to talk to, a trusting companion with whom to playfully whittle the hours away. But things were different now. 

            "Do you miss her, Li-Li?" he spoke at length, lovingly resting his hand on the head of the child, "Do you think of her often?"

            At this she gave a playful giggle, mischievously throwing a flower at her father's feet. A red carnation. Bending over to pick it up, he fell face first into his daughter's trap— the softness of a light kiss on the cheek. Chun-Li… Spring Beauty… how appropriate her name sounded now.

            "I'm sorry, you know." He gave a sigh, looking up into the clear blue of the day's sunshine, "I'm sorry for not being able to be there."

            And suddenly he felt a warmness in his hand, a softness which pressed gently into the flesh of his palm. She was holding his hand. Her skin… delicate. Her fingers… so small and tiny in comparison to the giant behemoths of his own. The tears swelled up in his eyes, threatening to break forth into the mighty roaring of an all-out flood. His little Li-Li… how precious did her touch seem now. It was a life-line, a reason for living, a reason to continue fighting day by day. And **_her_** touch used to be just like this too. Oh how he loved the both of them.

            "Do they… allow flowers in heaven, daddy?" she looked at him, for the first time her expression mirroring one of concern, "They do don't they? Or else how am I going to get these to mommy?"

            "Of course they do." He smiled, blinking away the tears as he bent over to pick her up in his arms. She giggled in delight as he lifted her, squirmed in playful glee as he carried her high up into the cool breeze of the late afternoon air. Chun-Li. A memento of their marriage; a memory of precious days gone on by. And also his daughter. The most precious daughter in the world. He hugged her close to him, restraining her futile attempts at escape as he planted a half-dozen kisses on her cheek.

            "Baba!" she squirmed, trying to push away with her little arms, "Stop that! You're embarrassing me!"

            "But there's no one around to see you." He protested, continuing to snuggle her close to him, "And besides, it shouldn't be an embarrassment to be hugged by your father."

            "But baba… I'm big now! You can't do this now that I'm big!"

            Big. He gave a slight chuckle as he adhered to her wishes, resting all thirty-eight pounds of her slender, four-year old frame steadfastly on the ground. Heh heh. She was so cute when she was angry. Head thrust forward, tiny hands on hips— she glared at him with all the rage her little face could muster.

            "Don't laugh!" she pouted, "I **_AM_ big!"**

            "Of course Li-Li." He smiled, rubbing his daughter affectionately on the head, "You are big. So big, in fact, that I think… I think it's about time I gave you this…"

            Yes. It was about time he did it. He had been putting it off for far too long; for too many years had he delayed giving to her what was rightfully hers. The pictures, the memories, the remembrances… he supposed he was afraid of losing it all. But… she was old enough to understand now, old enough to appreciate the merit and sacredness of such things. She would take good care of them.

            "What is it, baba?" she asked, her anger rapidly being replaced by her rampant curiosity, "What is it?"

            "I have something to give you, Li-Li," he smiled as he kneeled down next to her, taking a tiny hand tightly into his own, "Something… important. But you have to promise to take good care of it, ok? Always keep it close by you, and make sure to never lose it. Ok, Li-Li?"

            "Ok baba." She smiled confidently at him.

            "Do you promise?"

            "Yes baba."

            He gave a short sigh as he released her, nodding to himself in an apparent gesture of satisfaction. She looked on in utter awe as he reached into his pocket, extracting what looked to be the tarnished markings of a small, brown, age-worn box.

            "These used to be your mother's. She wore them all the time."

            He opened it with the utmost of care, handling the thin cover of the worn-down package with all the frailty of a father and his new-born child. What was it? She grabbed his wrist in wild curiosity, stepped upon her tippy-toes to sneak a glance at the mysterious contents of the small, thin box. What could it possibly be?!

            "This… this is…"

            And inside she found the lonely figures of two ancient ribbons… the edges slightly tattered with age… the color— once so brilliant with the unrivaled magnificence of the day's sunshine— now faded away into nothing more than a pale yellowish reminder of the hue's former splendor. The golden bands looked strange, almost unreal in the soft light of the late afternoon sun. Ghostly. Ethereal. If someone were to touch them they would probably fade away altogether, forever leaving this plane to float for an eternity with the immaterial objects of the spirit world…

            "These… were mama's?"

            "Yes, Li-Li. Mama's."

Damn. He could feel the tears swelling forth again; his resolve was rapidly disintegrating into nothingness. With one urgent motion he thrust the box into her hand, hurriedly closing the tiny fingers over the package as he pulled himself away.

"Take care of them for me, Li-Li. Please."

"Yes, baba." She whispered, her voice still shaky with awe, "I will."

"And when you're a little bit older… when you're a bit older I'll show you how mama used to wear them." He wiped a hand over his eyes, softly brushing away the new wave of tears which threatened to run forth down his cheeks, "Alright, Li-Li?"

"Yes… yes baba."

            And she dropped the bouquet of flowers upon the ground, wrapped her arms tightly around his legs in the adoring embrace of a daughter's hug. He couldn't help but smile as he gave in to this little sign of affection, lovingly returning her hug with an embrace of his own. She always seemed to know how to comfort him. At least for the moment— a mere second of existing time— he could pretend that the tears of his eyes were dry, the clouds of the sky had lifted, the haunting nightmares of a hellish past would sugar over into the syrupy sweetness of future dreams.

            "I hope these will help you, Li-Li." He sighed, hugging her figure tight to him, "And when times are tough, when all the world around you seems to fight against your hopes and dreams… I hope then you will still have these as a reminder of your courageous mother…"

            He paused to smile at her, a grin she could almost discern to be sad in the fast receding brightness of the afternoon light.

            "… and of me…"

*****

_Ding-Dong._

"Welcome to Shanghai International Airport! Please keep yourself seated with seatbelts securely fastened until we have come to a full and complete stop by the airport terminal. The local time here is 5:30 pm. Local temperatures are around a cool 2º C, with a clear sky and hard winds expecting to pick up into the night. If you are planning to board on a connecting flight, please make sure to pick up your luggage at baggage claim C-14 before continuing to check in at your respective terminals. Otherwise if your final destination is Shanghai, we would like to take this opportunity to welcome you to the beautiful city and hope that you enjoy your stay here in China's industrial center."

Chun-Li slowly opened her eyes. The voice of the flight attendant loudly buzzed over the static charged droning of the overhead intercom, gradually setting her back among the squashed seats, narrow rows, and jam-packed corridors of the oppressively small commercial aircraft.

"On your way out please check to make sure you have all bags and overhead luggage securely with you, and in accordance with airport regulations please refrain from smoking until you are out of the terminal. On behalf of all employees here at China Airlines, we sincerely hope you have enjoyed your flight with us this afternoon and hope to see you again in the near future."

She sat up with a tired groan, pressing a hand to her violently throbbing forehead as she wiped a small stream of unconscious drool away from the corners of her mouth. Ughhh. Airplane flights were almost always tiring. Perhaps it was the constant noise of the flight which did it; or maybe it was the painfully cramped arrangement of the seats— with chairs packed so tightly they could almost double as a prison, slowly torturing the criminal with the full extent of their non-existent leg room—, but whatever it was she found herself exhausted.

            _Brrring-Brrring._

And suddenly there was a ringing— a loud tinny bell sound which screeched in her ears. Right on time. With a tired sigh she reached into the small black traveler's bag stowed away under the seat in front of her, rummaging through the various contents in search of the offensive sound. Let's see… toothbrush, comb, hairclips, notepad, a various assortment of pens and pencils and an old drama novel… ah here it was. Cell-phone.

"Hello?" she spoke, pressing the phone tightly to her ear. She already knew what the call was about. In accordance with Interpol regulations, all active agents were required to receive a preliminary mission briefing before leaving headquarters and a secondary "reminder" briefing after arriving at the destination.

"Good evening, Chunny!" the annoyingly energetic voice of Hou Jiang jumped out from the other end, "You still on the plane?"

            "At the terminal." She explained with a groan, raising one hand to slowly massage her throbbing temples. What a headache. And Hou was only making it worse, fairly screaming at her with all the vigor of his almost oppressively loud voice.

            "You didn't have too much trouble with the flight attendants giving you that crap about turning off the cell-phone, did you?"

            "No." She couldn't help but flash a tiny smile, "But I almost wish they did. Then I wouldn't have to talk to you."

            "Ouch. Always sooooo hostile. But you can't refuse me this time, Chunny! This is a business call from Interpol."

            "Yes, I know." She rolled her eyes, gave a tired sigh to the cramped, oppressive heat of the atmosphere, "You called to give me my secondary mission briefing, right?"

            "You got it, Chunny." She could hear him chuckle on the other end, "Interpol **_really_** likes to make sure their agents do their jobs right. I know you hate these, but I promise to make it go quick, ok? After I'm finished you won't have to hear my obnoxious voice anymore for the rest of the evening, alright?"

            "Fine." She gave a faint giggle, "Go ahead. " 

            "Alright then… let's start from the top." He paused to prepare himself for the task, drawing forth a deep breath of air into his lungs, "As you know, you were chosen for this assignment because you are familiar with the target, Ryu. Now, Ryu is someone we've been keeping track of for quite some time— even since before the Street Fighter tournament. No matter where he was we've always tried to have someone there with him, keeping track of his movements, his activities, and his actions. All in secret of course. You getting this, Chunny?"

            "Mm-hmm."

            "Well… apparently, this guy wanders a **_lot_**. In a four year span he's been spotted in China, Japan, India, Thailand, both of the Koreas and Mongolia— basically all of South Eastern Asia. It became increasingly difficult to keep track of him as time went on, and after the tournament we lost him altogether."

            "Are you almost done?" she asked, not caring to hide the obviously bored expression of her tone. These briefing reviews were **_so_** tedious.

            "Wow. You **_are_** impatient." He laughed, his voice chuckling forward from the other end, "You haven't done this in a while, so just bear with me a little longer, alright Chunny? As I was saying, he sort of disappeared after the tournament. He was still probably just wandering around somewhere on the Asian continent, but we weren't sure just exactly where he was. Only recently have we received any news of him at all."

            "He's here in Shanghai."

            "Yep. A well-known Shanghai crime syndicate calling themselves the _Defenders_ _of Righteousness_ have invited our little wandering warrior for a reception early tomorrow morning. We aren't aware of the exact details, why they want him, or even whether or not this Ryu knows who he's dealing with. Of course that's where you come in, Chunny! Interpol expects you to be at the meeting area promptly at two o'clock tomorrow morning. You remember the address, right?"

            "Yes." She muffled her voice, stifling her tone so no one else could hear, "52375 Zheng Zhou street."

            "Right. Its an old, abandoned munitions factory— the perfect kind of place to hold a secret early-morning rendezvous. Interpol wants you to investigate. It's a basic observation mission— tell us why they're meeting, what this organization wants with him, why he is there in the first place... all that good stuff. You got all that?" 

            "Yes, inspector Jiang." She gave a short sigh, "Now are you done?"

            "Oh… just… one more thing. Interpol wants me to make sure that you don't…" He paused, as if not sure of a definitive way to finish the sentence, "… that you don't… you know…" 

            "Hou?"

            "Look… just… don't do anything rash, ok?"

            "Rash?" she leaned back in her seat, a slight frown beginning to work its way over the delicate lines of her brows, "What are you saying?"

            "Look, Chunny." She could hear him sigh on the other end, "I know you wouldn't have accepted this assignment if it didn't involve this Ryu character. Now I know you've been through a lot, but you can't just…"

            "What are you saying?!" she repeated, her tone slightly rising, "That I'd place my personal desires over the assignment?"

            "No no! All I'm saying is…"

            "Look, Hou, I don't need you to tell me about what **_I_** should or should not do. I think I have more than enough…"

            "Jeez Chunny, settle down." His voice wavered over the cell-phone, as if he was distinctly uncomfortable with what he had to say, "All I'm saying is that… it's no secret to any of us just how much this assignment may mean to you. Interpol just wants to make sure you do your job right. That you don't… do… something you're not supposed to. Alright, Chunny?"

            "Fine." She responded with a frown, forcibly controlling herself from saying anything else, "Is that all?"

            "That's it. And… just be sure to take care of yourself, okay? I'll check back on you in the morning."

            "I will." she let out another sigh, "Bye, Hou."

            "Alright. I'll talk to you later."

            Chun-Li flipped the cell-phone closed, with a final sigh shoved it rather unceremoniously into the brown traveler's bag under the seat in front of her. Just what exactly had Hou been saying? That she would somehow botch the assignment? That somehow her own desires and personal wishes would get in the way of mission objectives? Desires? Just what was this 'desire' anyway?

            Revenge.

            "What an ugly word." She mumbled to herself, leaning her head back against the comforting softness of the airplane seat. An ugly word, but one that formed the whole basis for her life. Against Shadowloo. Against Bison. Now against this Ryu character who she hardly even knew. It was childish in a way… but she supposed in many ways she was still very much a child. When would she ever grow up?

            Chun-Li turned her head to quietly peer out of the fortified glass of a nearby window, watching in silent thought as the flashing signal lights of the shadowy runway would ever so slowly inch their way across the glass' dark, reflective surface. Shanghai. The city of smog. In the far off distance she could make out the looming towers of the city's industrial center— a series of high-rises and soaring office complexes steeped in an all too bright assortment of glares and artificial lights: a ghost city, with spires reaching out like haggard claws from the ground's shadowy surface, pale luminance glowing hauntingly against the darkness of the early night. It was a far cry from the humble village streets and rolling pasturelands of the countryside. Frightening, disquieting, disturbing… and yet at the same time more familiar, so much more real to her then the calm tranquility of the rural countryside. In a way, she was glad she had left.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

            He stood against the cold frigidity of the late-night breeze, a silhouette— a silvery shadow hidden away against the darkness of the night. In back lay the sprawling roadways and wide avenue lanes of the major industrial metropolis, the streets and boulevards crossing and mixing to form an intricate network of stone and concrete. And in front loomed the hulking monstrosity which confronted him now, a huge mass of rot and decay, a festering brothel of rusted steel and corroded metal forced together into a mere skeleton of the munitions plant which had stood there just decades before.

            "Strange…" he mouthed to himself, flashing his chest-nut brown eyes upwards along the yellowed, moth-eaten walls of the ancient factory. A cold wind blew through the thick strands of his short dark-brown hair, carrying on its breath the long-standing odor of crumbling decay which drifted so eerily about the place. Sharp. Acrid. The poignant smell haunted the scene with all the tenacity of a discontented ghost, rooting itself firmly about the rotten corpse as a stark reminder of the plant's former glory.

_52375 Zheng Zhou street._

Yes. This had to be it.

The slightest hints of a frown slowly furrowed itself over the brows of the Shotokan warrior. If anything, this whole thing smelled like trouble. At this desolate place, at a time when not even the rats dared crawl out of the dark corners of their stank abodes… there certainly was nothing cheery about it. Still, if these people really knew nearly as much as they said they did,— if they really could somehow help him— then the trip would have been well worth the effort. With a sigh he looked down upon the small, wrinkled slip of paper gripped tightly in his hands. 

_Ryu,_

_            You have felt it, haven't you? The anger, the pain, the fear of losing control. You don't want it but its there, always there like a sickness festering within you, ready to break out at any time. Dare you fight against the demons which haunt you? Come to Shanghai, 52375 Zheng Zhou street at 2:00 AM on the twenty-third of November. We can help you control it, Ryu._

            And that was it. No name. No signature. Just a cryptic message hurriedly scrawled out on a piece of notebook paper. It was all rather suspicious, and his suspicion was only heightened by the odd time and place chosen for the meeting. Why all the secrecy? Why did it have to be here, in the early hours of the still dark morning, at a place where no one had trod for years? He would have to be on his guard. Fixing his eyes steadfastly on the ruins of the munitions plant in front of him, he slowly picked his way through the twisted remains of the chain-link fence.

            _Tap-tap._

And there was that sound again, that same noise which had followed him ever since he had arrived at the broken-down ruins of the factory. Was he just imagining it?  The sound of movement behind him, as if there was someone watching from the shadows of the street corner. It was a soft noise, barely noticeable, picking up when he walked, stopping when he stopped. He strained his ears to listen, trying to pick out the sound from the soft humming of the wind all around.

            _Tap-tap.      _

            Yes. There it was once again. This time he was sure of it. A soft tapping of feet, so light as to be barely recognizable to even the most alert of ears. Someone was definitely lurking behind him… watching, waiting, muffling the noise of his footsteps with the sound of his own. Who was it? Ryu spun around with one quick motion, turning to stare out into the darkness of the Shanghai night. 

No one. 

Only the empty profile of the city streets returned his gaze, the lonely pavements blushing white with the soft light of the almost unnaturally bright moonshine…

            Ryu frowned to himself. His eyes were cheating him. There was definitely someone there… definitely someone watching from the sanctuary of the shadows. He could feel it now: the cold glare of spying eyes, the violent aura of repressed fury which swelled up menacingly against the darkness of the night. It seemed strangely familiar somehow… as if he had felt this before, as if he had met the same kind of vengeful energy somewhere in the not too distant past…

            He shook his head. It didn't matter. Whoever was following him was obviously a professional, someone who knew how to slip and slide among the darkness with all the ease of a hidden shadow. He needed to be careful.

            "Master Gouken… please watch over me…" 

            And with a final sigh he turned back to face the gloomy countenance of the run-down factory. Let them come, then. They would find that he was a man not so easily taken down…

            Chun-Li watched him turn back around, clenching her fists in silent anticipation as she eyed him from the shadows. It wasn't too hard to keep track of him. The milky white complexion of his gi stuck out like a sore thumb against the darkness of the early morning, giving him away with just as much readiness as the blood-red bandana which wrapped tightly around his forehead. She on the other hand had dressed well for the occasion; under the cover of a jet-black sweater and matching pants she was practically invisible, her figure melding seamlessly in with the surrounding darkness as if the night was nothing more than a natural extension of her body. Only her eyes could be seen to be glimmering in the darkness. Those eyes… burning with the malevolent energies of some demonic fire… watching every movement of the Shotokan fighter with all the keen attentiveness of a lioness hunting her prey, silently stalking from the shadows of the background before closing in for the kill.

It looks like he was moving again. 

            And with one quick lurch she was off, dashing from shadow to shadow, seamlessly melting in with the night as she followed in his thudding footsteps. It was easy. It was too easy. He continued walking forward in his ignorance… stupid… unaware… completely oblivious to the quick and sudden danger looming up from behind. She flashed a smile of triumph to herself— a grin that could no longer be called pretty in nature or appearance, but burning forward like some horrendous monstrosity in the darkness of the night, contorting the usually beautiful features of her face into something beyond humanity.

            "Baba… you may finally rest well soon… I've been waiting for this…" 

            Yes. She had been waiting for this. She had been waiting for far too long. All that time at Interpol… all those years of training, working, fighting… it would finally mean something now. A life of vengeance… in the end did it really matter who it was carried out against? Bison was dead. Shadowloo was gone. But at least she could have this… this final… satisfaction. She crouched under the shelter of a nearby pile of rubble, her eyes gleaming dangerously in the darkness, every muscle in her body tense with the anticipation of the coming attack. Ten years of blood, tears, and agony. It all ended now!

            _"It's no secret to any of us just how much this might mean to you… just don't do anything rash, ok?"_

She froze. The voice of Hou Jiang suddenly rang aloud in her head, an alarm bell screaming with a final warning to her befuddled mind. And suddenly she found herself back, returned among the rusted metal and broken-down rubble of the old munitions factory.

"Wha… what?"        __

And she drew back, horrified, her face rapidly draining of any semblance of color which still remained. What… what was she doing? What the hell was she doing?! She stumbled backwards in sudden fright, trying her best to stifle the cry of alarm which sounded from her lips.

            _"Interpole just wants to make sure that you do your job right… that you don't… do… something your not supposed to…"_

She tried to steady herself, but the powerful backwards momentum was more than enough to break her feeble efforts and force her violently upon the ground. She lay there for a moment, panting heavily, her breaths rushing forward with a sharp and painful gasp before being forcibly repressed by her screaming mind. She found herself shaking; beads of hot sweat ran down her forehead and along the pale surface of her cheeks before stopping to dribble as a single stream off the tip of her chin. Oh god. What had just happened?! Chun-Li covered her face with her hands, trying desperately to stop the violent trembling which ripped through her body.

"Come on Chun… calm down…"

She let out a slow, drawn-out breath, feeling the muscles of her body gradually relax with the steady rhythm of her breathing. Something… something had happened when she had laid eyes on him. A dormant fury had seemed to ignite within her; an unspeakable burst of malevolent will which had consumed all of her attention. For those few terrible moments she had wanted to kill him, wanted with all her desperation to kill this man who had destroyed everything her life had been built upon. She shuddered at the sudden feeling of intense self-disgust which worked its way into the pits of her stomach. Ten years of anger, sorrow, and guilt… so this was what her life was spiraling down to. Hou had been right.

"Come on… get up…" she hissed to herself, forcibly pushing herself upwards with a sharp gasp of pain. Relax. She needed to relax. There would be another time to think about such things, but right now she had to focus. Chun-Li scrambled rapidly to her feet, flashing a quick glance about herself for any glimmer of white which might shimmer in the darkness.

But Ryu was nowhere to be seen.

            "Damn it!" she hissed under her breath. Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! It looks like Hou had been right yet again; her emotions **_had _**got in the way of mission objectives. She bit down on her lip in nervous frustration, darting her eyes all around for any clues as to the Shotokan warrior's whereabouts.

And there was suddenly a small door hidden along the side of the factory, the opening slightly ajar as if someone had just stepped through it. Yes. That had to be Ryu; there was no one else nearby. With a deep sigh of relief she made her way to the darkened opening and lightly pushed against the rotted wooden surface with the tips of her fingers.

            _Crreeaak._

            She flinched. The door swung open with a loud moaning of hinges, revealing the flimsy wooden steps of an ancient stairway spiraling downwards into the darkness. Immediately the strong acidic smell of rusting metal rushed forward to fill her nostrils; its stagnant odor assaulting her senses until a powerful sense of light-headedness forced her down upon the railings for support.

            "Alright Chun," she consoled herself, eyeing the shadowy pit with a slight feeling of apprehension, "Down you go."

And she took a cautious step forward. The stairway gave a terrific crackling under her feet, and she paused on the first step, unsure of whether the whole thing would topple over altogether. But when a second passed and nothing had happened, however, she took a deep breath and carefully continued onwards, listening to the consequent creaking of the stairway with each step she took. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. There were quite a few places where the steps had broken off and fallen away altogether, leaving only a conspicuous gap glaring dangerously in the moonlight. These she jumped with some anxiety, praying that the force of her leap wouldn't be enough to send her careening through the floorboards screaming to her death below …Fourteen... Eighteen… Twenty-Two... Twenty-Eight... It was beginning to grow dark now. The thin sliver of silvery moonlight reaching in through the doorway began to waver and then disappear completely as she proceeded steadily downwards, eventually leaving her in a state of complete darkness. Shit. She couldn't see anything. Chun-Li leaned heavily on the railings for guidance and support, cautiously feeling for the existence of a step below before continuing onwards into the darkness… Thirty-five… Thirty-Eight… Forty-Two… Forty-Six… just how long did these steps go on for? They seemed to spiral on for an eternity, reaching down forever into the very pits of the earth…__

            But no sooner had the thought crossed her mind then the staircase ended, with her feet meeting the solid ground with a satisfying _plic-plocing _of shoe upon pavement. She gave a silent sigh of relief as she jumped off the last step, all too eager to take leave of the rickety stairway and the painfully loud squeaks which followed every stride. Down here it was no lighter. The darkness spread like a sheet in all directions— a natural blindfold of the deepest black far too thick to see through. She noticed that the smell of decaying metal, however, had grown oh-so-delightfully stronger, filling her nostrils with a repugnant stench so powerful that it took all of her effort to avoid coughing. Chun-Li stood for a minute in the darkness, ears alert, breathing stifled, all her attention focused on picking up any semblance of sound which might clue her in on the surrounding environment. 

            _"There is… I've… come… see?"_

She froze. A faint rumbling of sound drifted from the darkness ahead— a line of broken speech, the words muffled and suppressed, the individual syllables so silent as to be almost indistinguishable to her ears. She strained her ears to listen.

            _"Master… had thought… perhaps… it was the… world."_

No. It was useless. The words were too distant; from here there were only the muffled droning of incoherent fragments. She needed to get closer. Taking a slow breath of air to steady her breathing, she ever so slowly began to grope her way forward through the black.

            _"…our efforts have been for too long… denied…"_

The words were becoming more pronounced now. Fragments fit upon fragments to form at least a somewhat articulate sentence structure. But before she could get any closer she suddenly felt the outlines of a wall in front of her, blocking hope of any further progress forward into the darkness.

            "Damn." She breathed silently to the heavily tainted air. The voices were coming from just past this barrier; she could clearly pick out the heavy droning of a man from the other side. Pressing a ear gently to the surface, she strained to pick up any bits and pieces of the conversation she could possibly overhear.

            _"Enough of this,"_ A voice echoed from the other side._ Words flowed forward in a fluent Japanese, ringing with a tone at once both determined and soft, annoyed but also strangely calm in the heavy atmosphere of the factory basement. She knew who it was right away. Ryu. "__I came here to learn more about myself.  If you have something to say then say it now." _

_"My, my, my. Aren't you the impatient one…"_

_            And then there was a second voice. The high-pitched notes of a shrill derisive laughter rent the air— a maniacal chuckle echoing all too terribly in the dark interior of the underground. Chun-Li felt a violent shudder ripple through her body at the sound. She knew who this one was, too. The voice was only all too familiar._

_"… and here I was thinking we'd have a friendly little… competition… before we got done to business. Hmmm?"_

She clenched her fists in sudden aggravation, darting one hand instinctively to the small black handgun fastened around her waist. She found that her breathing had suddenly become staggered; the surrounding air all at once seemed far too eager to pour into her overflowing lungs. It seemed like Shadowloo's demise had not stopped some from continuing their lives of crime. Chun-Li gripped the revolver tightly in her hand, feeling a slight chill tingle upon the back of her neck at the thought. She had hoped never to see him again. But it looks like fate always had some cruel way of joining her with that mad man.

            "Come on, there has to be a way through this thing." 

            And she groped along the wall in the darkness, looking for a handle, a knob, anything slightly resembling a door in appearance. Presently her hand touched upon the cold metallic surface of a small, round bulge protruding outwards from the wall, and she slowly twisted it, giving the door frame the lightest of pushes with her fingertips.

            _Creeeek._

            She flinched again as the door similarly moaned in protest, and swung forward just enough to reveal a small, thin opening barely wide enough for an eye to peer through. Immediately a tiny stream of golden light flooded in through the open crack, illuminating the darkness with such abrupt intensity that Chun-Li staggered backwards, momentarily stunned as small bursts of red light danced upon her line of vision. She blinked fiercely for a moment, waiting until they had slowly receded before ever so carefully leaning forward to peer an eye through the opened crack.

            She found herself looking at what appeared to be a basement storage facility, with abandoned crates and mold-eaten boxes all stacked up high upon one another in gigantic spiraling towers of rot and decay. Littered sporadically upon the floor here and there were the still sealed cases of unused bullet shells: wasted artifacts forever left to rot for an eternity with the left-over remnants of the munitions factory. There was rust everywhere. The brown stuff clung to boxes, walls, floorboards; and once again the familiar smell of rotting metal surged forward with a renewed intensity, flooding her nostrils until a tremendous sense of nausea swept dizzily over her.

            Chun-Li blinked.

Standing in the center lane, in a small open area hedged in by crates on both sides, was Ryu. He was peering upwards, muscles tense, body erect, silent figure looming convincingly in the shadows of a nearby stack of crates. From this angle she was only able to make out the visage of his back, but if she had been able to read his features she was sure she would have seen an expression of complete focus drawing across his face, the lines contorting perfectly to form a mask of total concentration. What was he looking at? She very reluctantly followed his gaze, already aware of what would loom there in the heights of the basement chamber. Immediately her heart jumped upwards into her throat; she could feel her stomach make a quick twist and turn before flipping completely over.

            Yes. It was him. There was no mistaking it. A flash of polished steel, a glint of pointed perfection— there, crouched high atop a nearby stack of boxes was the shimmering claw, the unmistakable mask of _Vega_.

            "So what say you to my challenge, Shotokan?" he sneered now, his voice laughing with that same superior condescension she was only all too familiar with, "Surely you are not rude enough to back down from a challenge offered by your host? Unless of course…" His lip curled into a triumphant smile from behind the mask, "… you are afraid?"

            Ryu only continued to stare upwards— no movement, no hint at all that he had been affected by the provocation. When he spoke it was with that same droning tone she had always heard him use, echoing calmly throughout the room in a tranquil undertone.

"I did not come here to battle, but if you put forth the invitation I will not refuse." 

"Spoken like a true warrior." Vega laughed, "I wouldn't have expected anything less from the champion of the Street Fighter tournament. No wonder Bison thought so highly of you."

He didn't respond to this. Instead he simply squared himself into his fighting position, never once moving his eyes from the Spaniard.

"I've been looking forward to this, Shotokan. Its been a very long time since I have had a real test of my skills, you see, and killing simply becomes slightly less… interesting… when all the little girls can do nothing but run and shriek. Don't you agree?"

            Chun-Li shivered as another cold laugh echoed resoundingly through the chamber. She gripped the handgun ever tighter in her hands, keeping a wary eye on the figure of the Spanish assassin. Vega was not someone to be taken lightly. To him the word _"competition" automatically translated into __"death match." _

            "So you will excuse me won't you," he continued with a hidden smirk, "If I am slightly… rusty? Unworthy blood has made me fat, and I hunger for something cleaner to whet my appetite. You understand don't you, Shotokan?"

            Silence.

            "Very well then." He dropped his voice to a dangerous hiss, "Shall we began?"

And hardly had the words escaped his mouth then he was gone, leaping forward with tremendous speed, attacking in a near invisible blur of violence and power. A blood-curding battle cry rent the air as he shot forcefully downwards, pulling back the glittering steel of his weapon to prematurely finish the match with one quick and deadly strike…__

            But he felt himself swinging at nothing. One quick backwards somersault was all that Ryu needed to avoid his touch, leaving only pavement to meet the hungry violence of his claws.

            _Plunk._

_            A terrific jolt ripped through Vega's body as steel met stone. The strength of the impact forced the three jagged blades deep down into the ground, kicking up a storm of dust and rock into the thin slits of his eyeholes. Vega swore loudly as he tried to steady himself, yanking fiercely on the weapon which had jammed hard into the pavement. Get out. Come on, get out! There was no time for this foolishness; his opponent was going to retaliate any second now!_

            _Wham!_

            There came a sudden, unrelenting pain in the side of his head. Vega cried out as the kick struck home, feeling an instant gush of something warm spill violently from the base of his chin. For a moment his whole body seemed to swivel and contort— with his head going one way and his still pinned arm twisting awkwardly in another he looked almost comical, like some silly misshapen work of nature which should never have been allowed to leave the womb. He crumpled to the ground panting in agony, a painfully loud pounding ringing in his head.

            "Get up."

Wha… what? Had he just heard right? Vega forced an uncertain glance over his shoulder. Ryu wasn't moving at all. He simply stood there eyeing him, face expressionless, body unmoving, arms pulled inwards in the usual Shotokan fighting position. He was **_letting_**_ him recover. A violent snarl escaped the lips of the Spanish assassin as he pushed himself upwards, yanking out the jammed claw with one ferocious pull of his arm. As if he needed any help! Ryu would regret insulting his abilities like that. Oh yes. He would make sure of it._

"A honorable fighter, aren't you, Shotokan?" He managed a wry smile behind the pale white surface his mask. Raising an un-clawed hand to feel his face, he noticed that the whole lower half had been badly damaged, with bits and pieces of white paint flaking off in all directions. The lower edge of his chin had, to his utmost relief, remained largely undamaged, with only a slight trickle of blood dribbling from his mouth. 

"But unfortunately, honor does little for you on the battlefield. Before this fight is over you'll be deeply lamenting your own hospitality."

            He licked his lips in apparent satisfaction, feeling the familiar taste of blood dribble warmly down his throat. Thick and syrupy, but altogether quite a bit too sour. Ah, there's the rub. He never did like the taste of his own blood very much. The sweetest vintages, after all, came only from the prettiest of girls. This Ryu character didn't look to have much potential at all. Ah well, what could you do.

            "Prepare yourself, Shotokan! I will end this quickly!"

            And he once again lunged forward, bracing his claw menacingly in the bright light of the basement floor. Faking upwards with a head high swipe, he swept his powerful legs down across his opponent's feet and successfully tripped him to the cold stone of the floor. But Ryu rolled to the side and was back up almost immediately, ready to parry another off-the-mark stab with a quick punch of his own.

            "Ahhh!!"

            Vega's head jerked violently backwards as the sickening crunch of splintering wood echoed through the air. The face! Not the face! Dodging angrily to the left, he caught another incoming punch with his free arm and twisted hard, feeling a slight pane of sadistic glee at his opponent's resulting grunt of pain. Ryu countered with a vicious fist to the stomach with his free hand, forcing Vega to quickly release the arm as he doubled over, his face lurching forward to make quite a nice target for another punch.

            Ryu took full advantage of the opportunity.

            And the Spanish ninja flew backwards against the concrete, hitting the floor with a loud crunching of bone upon pavement before rolling to a complete stop some ten feet away. He lay there for a moment— face contorted, breathing rushed, teeth snapping viciously together at the enormous sensation of pain which shot upwards through his arm.

            "Get up."

Wha… what? Vega stared unblinkingly at the Shotokan warrior. How… how… dare he…

"Get up." Ryu repeated, not taking his eyes of his downed combatant.

            And then suddenly a terrific cry split the air, an ear-splitting shriek which bounced off walls and echoed down corridors to resonate a hundred times more terrible to the human ear. Vega had sprung to his feet, a demonic light suddenly appearing to shine behind those tiny eye-holes, a renewed energy seeming to have gripped the body of the assassin. 

            "As I said, Shotokan, you will regret ever having allowed me this opportunity!"

            He rushed forward with renewed fervor, attacking with such quickness that Chun-Li had a hard time keeping track of all his movements. High punch. Low punch. Kick. Dodge. Counter. Kick. Kick. Dodge. Counter. Ryu was being steadily fought backwards; his blocks and counterattacks looked suddenly slow and awkward in comparison to the assassin's own quickness. It did not look like he could hold his own for much longer at this rate. All Vega was looking for was an opportunity, any opening he could use to thrust his weapon home.

            It came soon enough.

            Ducking under a head-high kick to the face, Vega moved underneath and lunged, stabbing his weapon upwards with one quick, slashing motion. Ryu tried vainly to twist to the side, but it was far too late and far too slow.

            There was blood.

            An explosion of blood.

            A burst, a sudden rupture of liquid from the side of his stomach.

            Dripping, sloshing, falling— a river of red spilling down his robes, staining the surrounding white with a hue of dark crimson.

            He fell.

            Chun-Li watched him fall, looked on as his body sailed lazily through the air as if framed in some kind of horrific painting, a picture to remain forever frozen in her memory. With a sharp gasp he slammed into the ground, clutching the side of his stomach in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Red. So much red everywhere. Now dribbling down his hands, bleeding through his fingers into a small pool around his waist. She blinked her eyes at the sight.

            "Did I not say it, Shotokan?" Vega laughed, his tall slender figure looming victoriously over his fallen opponent, "Did I not warn you? Honor gives you nothing on the battlefield. Mercy is nothing more than a disease of the weak minded."

            Ryu said nothing. He had closed his eyes in concentration; his chest slowly heaved with each breath he took. She could see his lips moving, but no words came out; it was as if he was talking to himself.

            "Don't worry little warrior. It will be over in an instant. I find little pleasure in prolonging the pain of one so… unsatisfying… as yourself. I shall make it strictly business."

Vega moved one hand upwards to remove his battered mask. The visor had done its job well. Although several small cuts and bruises ran the length of his nose and chin, his face on the whole seemed none the worse for wear. And now when he grinned… now when he grinned she could see his twisted smile— a horrible curling of the lips and twinkling of the eyes, now blinking brightly at the prospect of a fresh kill.

            "Prepare yourself, Shotokan! Here, I shall do what Bison could not!"

            She watched as he raised his claw precariously overhead, the horrible grin of his lips now magnified ten-fold in the light of forthcoming victory. The three blades glinted in wanton hunger as droplets of crimson ran down their length, shimmering with an evil light as they spilled slowly down onto the assassin's arm. He was ready now. 

_Help him._

Chun-Li blinked. A voice… a conscience had suddenly called out in her mind. 

_Help him.               _

Should she? It was her duty after all. Interpol would not like having their one possible source of information slaughtered like this.

            _Help him._

_            It was the only decent thing to do. Would she be able to live with herself after this, knowing that she did nothing while this man was butchered in front of her very eyes?_

            _Go on. Help him._

            She shook her head. No, that was just one voice, one vote. There was still yet another, another voice which couldn't help but scream in joyful glee at the sight spread out in front of her… 

            The sight of blood.

            Her blood.

Just like on that rainy day, nearly a year ago.

Blood to run, to trickle, to bleed… to mix upon the concrete of the pavement.

But his blood now.

His life.

His chance to taste what death felt like.

Why should she help?

Why should she do any less than what he had  done to her?

Yes, let him feel it.

Let him feel what it was like to lose everything.

It was only fair.

Only reasonable…

            She blinked again.

            "Prepare yourself, Shotokan, for the great beyond!" 

And for the second time that night she found herself awoken, returned once again to the rust-strewn chamber in the basement level of the factory. What… what was she doing?! What the hell was the matter with her?! She stood there breathing sharply, feeling the fast rasps of her breaths spilling in and out of her lungs. That… that couldn't have been her thinking. What would he say… what would her father say if he could have seen her standing there, thinking those very thoughts as a scene of cold blooded murder unfolded in front of her very eyes?

            That decided it. With a terrific scream she exploded through the door, leveling the firearm at the twisted face of the assassin.

            "Vega, stop!!"

            He froze. For a moment he could do nothing but stare stupidly from beside Ryu's crumpled body: mouth open, eyes wide, face contorted in an expression of utter bewilderment at the sudden appearance of the Chinese Interpol agent. But a second later and he had quickly recovered, straightening himself to once again flash that familiar grin across the smooth features of his face.

            "Well, well, if it isn't little rabbit. What a most… gratifying… surprise…"

            A truly gratifying surprise, indeed. He observed her with hungry eyes, feeling a slight thrill run up and down his spine as he took in every inch of the beautiful Chinese woman's body. What a cute little figure. Every curve and bend, every valley and slope, every arch and slant— ah… for how long had he desired to despoil that figure. To hear her scream, to hear her beg, to hear her cry… and then to watch as the blood ran thick down her neck, over her breasts, along her thighs… and to finally finish it, all at once brutally and mercilessly… quickly choking back that last stifled scream before the silence of death came to overtake her… mmmm, that would be the ultimate pleasure. Vega licked his lips at the thought. Why did she always have to deny him the enjoyment that was bound to be his?

            "It is always a pleasure to see you, inspector." He greeted her now, bending his figure in a mock bow to the ground, "I trust that life has found you well since last we met?"

            "Yes, very well, thank you."    

            She met his grin with a smirk of her own, a dry smile which reared up in challenge against the Spaniard's own. Fear was not an option, here. The lunatic thrived on the terror he inspired in others; he desired it, needed it to maintain his own bulging ego. She would not give him that satisfaction. Drawing forth all of her courage into her chestnut brown eyes, she gazed at him with an expression of absolute determination blazing across her features.

            "And you've come, I assume, for me?"

            "You got it, Vega." She held her smile, her grin now almost ridiculously sweet in comparison to the words which flew out of her mouth, "You're under arrest for drug trafficking, illegal solicitating, and numerous accounts of rape and murder."

            "Really inspector?" his eyes gleamed dangerously in the half-light, "And I suppose that you're the one who is going to take me in?"

            "That's right."

            "And what will you do, inspector, if I refuse to cooperate?"

            "I'll shoot you." She replied simply.

            "You? Shoot me?"

             "Yes, Vega. I shoot **_you_**."

            At this he laughed— another high-pitched, terrible chuckle which echoed resoundingly in her ears. She couldn't help but give a slight shiver at the noise, hoping that he would not pick up on the cold shudder which rippled through her body.

            "Really… you disappoint me, little rabbit." His smile twisted into that of a condescending sneer, a terrible contorting of the lips which made the Spaniard look only all the more twisted in the relative darkness of the room, "We both know that you won't shoot me."

            "Oh?" She stepped a foot forward, the grin rapidly disappearing to be replaced by an expression of deathly seriousness, "I really hope you'll try me, Vega. Because an excuse is all I need to erase you from this world for good."

            "Chun-Li, Chun-Li, Chun-Li. Still as predictable as always. Would you really dare to shoot someone so bound to yourself in destiny?"

            "I don't know what you're talking about."

            "But don't you?" he raised an eyebrow in mock surprise, "You and I. Hunter and hunted. One and another. Doesn't fate just always have some way of bringing us together? You, my little rabbit, belong to me."

            The eyes of the Spaniard were cold— a chilled, relentless blue which bore mercilessly into her very soul. Under the glare of those eyes she couldn't help but feel a sudden sense of fear course through her, forcing yet another shudder to tear through the already tense muscles of her body. This was just another one of his mind games. To him she was nothing more than a simple plaything— some delightful little toy made for the sole enjoyment of his diseased mind.

            "Why inspector, I do believe you are shivering." Observed Vega coolly, a grin of sadistic enjoyment beginning to play upon the thin lines of his lips.

            "I am not… you…"

            "You****are afraid." He concluded, looking her up and down in an expression of vicious glee, "And afraid, I do believe, of **_me_**. But don't worry, little rabbit. I would never even began to think of harming such a cute little girl such as yourself. Not until, at least," he licked his lips in eager anticipation, "I have had a suitable opportunity to award your beauty with the… admiration… it deserves."

            "That's enough, Vega!" she breathed, feeling the hot palms of her hands grow  wet under the sharp bite of the handgun, "I am not some little toy for you to play with! You never could understand that this isn't some kind of game!"

            "Ah… but that, inspector, is where you are wrong. This is a game, you see. This has always been a game. Interpol and Shadowloo… this is all more of a game than you wish to understand. And you, my cute little bunny," he pointed directly at her, "are indeed nothing more than a toy. A pawn, in fact, of the Shadowloo organization."

            Silence. Chun-Li stared outwards at the twisted eyes of the assassin, determined to meet his gaze with a singular determination of her own. But the cold glare of those piercing blue eyes seemed to all at once swallow up her remaining resolve, melting away all her determination in one split second of time. Shadowloo… there was something sinister about the way he talked about the faded organization. In the present tense… as if it still existed… as if it was still involved in operations around the world. And that part about her being a pawn… what was that all about? Chun-Li shook her head. No. Stop. Stop thinking about it. Vega's mind games were numerous and far-reaching, and quite cleverly invited the victim to participate without the player's own knowledge. She would not fall for it this time. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she put another foot forward to meet the Spanish ninja.

            "Your words are empty." She spoke firmly, holding her head upwards to meet the eyes of the assassin, "Shadowloo has long since been gone, and..."

            "Oh no, my little rabbit. I am afraid you are wrong once again." His eyes gleamed dangerously in the semi-darkness, "Shadowloo is far from gone. Shadowloo is everywhere, you see, and has always been much closer to you than you dare to think..."

            He smiled innocently at her, taking a small step forwards to meet her own. Ryu still lay sprawled out silently on the nearby floor: his eyes closed in meditation, his breathing sparse and shallow as if he was inflicted in some kind of self-induced sleep.

            "Stay back." She glowered, retreating a step despite herself, "I am not here to play your games."

            "Such hostility from such a pretty woman." He gave another condescending laugh, "Why can't you see, Chun-Li, that you belong to me? Your beauty deserves so much more than what any of these everyday trolls can give you. If only you would let me show you… if only you could taste what true pleasure is!"

            "I don't want your 'pleasure.'" She replied coldly, "The pleasure of a murderer is not for me."

            Vega's eyes lit up.

            "Murderer? Murderer, you say? But ah, little rabbit, how ignorant you are to the ways of the world."

            He reached a hand upward to refasten his mask, feeling that instinctive savagery swell through his body as the clasps fastened securely in place.

            "Whereas you use the word 'murderer,' I would much rather prefer the term 'artist.'" He took another threatening step forward, "After all, there is something distinctly artistic about the sight of blood— wouldn't you agree?"

            "Stop right there, Vega." She breathed, retreating another step backward, "Don't come any closer…"

            "The way it flows, the way it runs, the way it shimmers," he took another step, "the smell, the texture, the taste… the way it dribbles oh-so-smoothly down from a pretty girl's face to her neck, to her chest, to her legs. A river of red, mixing and dividing, running and stopping, rising and falling as it trickles in tune with every sensual curve of her body. Yes, my dear, there is something distinctly beautiful in that."

            "I'm warning you Vega…"

            "Whereas other artists paint with brush on paper," he ignored her threats as he progressed steadily onwards, "I paint with claw upon flesh. Blood is the paint with which I draw upon my parchment; screams are the tints with which I color my work. But of course I don't expect you to understand such things, little rabbit. We artists are a misunderstood race…"

            "Don't take another step!!" She screamed, her fingers dashing upwards to rest on the cold metal of the trigger, "This is your last chance, Vega!"

            He froze, a slight smile beginning to curl along the length of the Spaniard's thin lips. How absolutely exquisite did she look standing there with her face pink, her breathing ragged, her fingers shaking uncontrollably upon the trigger of the handgun. Ah… fear always seemed to bring out the best in all the cute little girls. He would enjoy skinning his little rabbit.

            "It truly is a shame that you can't appreciate my art, inspector." He spoke in an almost disturbingly hushed undertone, "But I must admit that up until now I have not been able to obtain the kind of perfection I would like in my works. However," his eyes shot glaringly towards her, "I seek to correct that right now."

            And without another word he was off, lurching forwards with such blurring quickness that he had covered the distance between them with four long strides, and was suddenly looming dangerously upon her before she knew what was happening.

            _Blam!_

_            Blam!_

            She jerked her finger backwards, felt the powerful recoil of the pistol as two deafening explosions disturbed the tranquility of the surrounding air. But it was already too late. He had her arm twisted upwards away from his face, and the bullets whistled harmlessly past to bury themselves in the basement ceiling.

            "Tsk. Tsk. And I thought you almost enjoyed our little competitions together..."

            He grabbed her wrist and twisted hard, listening to the resulting cry of pain with a sudden thrill of satisfaction as the firearm fell to the floor. Vega kicked at it, sending the weapon scuttling far away to the other side of the room.

            "And now, my little rabbit, I shall paint my masterpiece..."

            He let out a bemused chuckle as he watched her struggle, relishing in the expression of distressed surprise which drew across her eyes. Ah… she looked so helpless standing there under the strength of his viselike grip… shaking… twisting… squirming like some wounded animal trying desperately to escape before the hunter closed in for the kill. Heh. Heh. It always was more pleasurable when they struggled. He raised his claw to strike.

            But an abrupt pain shot through his stomach, forcing the weapon clumsily down before he had a chance to attack. He kneeled forward breathless as Chun-Li followed the kick with another ferocious knee to the stomach, cried out in pain as he felt a sudden elbow smash into the back of his head. Vega crumpled to the ground in a disorganized heap, his masked face crashing hard against the stone of the pavement.

            She wasn't so nice as to let him get up.

            Bracing all of her strength into the base of her foot, she arced one leg sharply downwards into a heel drop. But with one smooth motion he had twisted around, and caught the foot in midair as it sailed for his chest. She stumbled backwards as he pushed her off, allowing him the time to leap to his feet.

            "Hiyaaaaa!!"

            And he rushed her again. Bracing his shoulder blades down low, he slammed into her lower body with such force that she did an awkward somersault over his head and onto the ground. Chun-Li felt a sudden warmness spill from the rear of her head as her skull snapped backwards against the hard stone floor, quickly accompanied by a loud screeching of tinny bells echoing sharply in her ears. All at once the world seemed to twist and turn; tiny sparks of bright light flew upon her line of vision.

            "Ughhh."

            But she didn't have time to check her injuries. Vega came out shooting like a bullet from the sky, claw cocked dangerously backwards in the ready position. Rolling deftly to the side, she felt a cold whipping of air against her face as the blades sliced on past, narrowly missing flesh to cut away a loose lock of hair instead. Immediately she leapt to her feet just fast enough to dodge another swipe, and countered with a head-high kick which left the Spaniard reeling backwards.

            And now she was on the offensive, attacking with such quick ferocity that she was a blur— a mere flash of black against the factory background. High kick. Mid kick. Low kick. A storm of attacks to keep on the pressure, never allowing the assassin an opportunity to regain his footing. Vega tried to counter with a stab of his own, but she easily ducked underneath and kicked down low, tripping him off his feet with one sweeping motion.

            But she wasn't finished. Another kick sent him even higher in the air, and she jumped upwards after him to slam one more side-winding foot ferociously into the side of his face. Vega's whole body seemed to twist awkwardly as he went sailing backwards against a nearby stack of crates, his head banging hard against the surface with a loud splintering of wood. A slow, tortuous groan escaped the Spaniard's lips as he slumped painfully to the ground.

            And Chun-Li's eyes darted immediately to the figure of the small, black, handgun positioned on the other side of the room. There! Now was her chance! She dashed for it, reaching out with hands outstretched as the firearm grew progressively closer and closer to her eyes. But before she could reach it there came a sudden weight from behind, a powerful force which pushed her down roughly onto the stone of the floor. She hit the ground with a sharp cry of pain, found herself suddenly pinned to the floor by the knee which pressed against the swell of her back.

            "Bitch! You think you can do this to me?!"

            She gasped as she felt a hand pull upwards on her hair, tilting her head just enough for three shining blades to slide under the base of her chin. Chun-Li flailed her legs wildly backwards from behind, heard a muffled cry as the heel of her feet connected with the top of the assassin's spine. Vega fell forwards in agony, unable to maintain his grip as he rolled clumsily off the Interpol agent's body.  

            She used the opportunity to pull herself swiftly to her feet. Spinning around with one quick motion, she intended fully to bury another violent kick into the assassin's side. But as she braced herself for a fresh offensive she suddenly found the rows of crates barren and empty; only the empty shells of leftover storage containers loomed up to meet her gaze.

            Vega was gone.

            "Wh… where…?"       

            She spun quickly around, expecting to be ambushed at any moment by an attack from behind. But there was nobody there either. Where was he? Chun-Li's gaze darted anxiously about the room, her eyes searching for any flash of crimson which might shimmer in the shadows. Upon railings, between boxes, among the darkened outlines of chamber corners… no, he was nowhere to be seen. A slow frown furrowed over the Interpol agent's brows. Had the assassin turned tail and fled? Somehow, she didn't think so…

            _Swoosh._

            A sudden whipping of air prompted her to look upwards. On top of a nearby stack of crates she caught a brief glimpse of his pant-leg: a telltale flash of red before the Spaniard ducked out of sight. _He was on top of the boxes_. She craned her neck to snatch another glimpse, but it was of no use— the towers of boxes were stacked far too high to peer over.

            _Thud._

            And now she could hear him moving, his feet leaping from box to box with a heavy rhythm of sole upon wood. Where was he? Here. Now there. His movements were quick and sporadic, his leaps chosen strategically to confound her attempts to track him. All around the beating of feet rang loudly in her ears, spiraling in a chaotic circle of thuds and echoes. Chun-Li could feel her heart beat fast; her breaths quickened with each loud thump which reverberated in her chest. 

            And suddenly she spotted a glimpse of red cloth— a movement, a faint stirring of something directly to her left. She started. __

            "Kikouken!!"

            There came a loud crack, a deafening roar of splintering wood as her fireball smashed into the top most heights of a nearby tower. The crate's top exploded into a thousand tiny pieces, raining down a fair shower of wooden fragments upon the Chinese Interpol agent.

            But no Vega.

            Chun-Li stood stock still in the soft shower of wood and sawdust, listening to the sharp gasps of her breathing slowly linger and then disappear altogether into the heavy drooping of the atmosphere. All at once the thudding of feet had stopped, leaving only an ominous aura of silence to hang thick about the scene. It was repressive somehow… almost frightening… as if the Spaniard was bracing himself… as if he was waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike…

            "You are not very aware of your surroundings, inspector."

            She felt her blood freeze cold. A… a voice… a sudden voice in her ear… whispered… close… directly from behind. It… it couldn't be. How… how had he…

            And she quickly moved as if to spin around. But it was already too late. There came an abrupt, excruciating pain in the mid of her back— a sudden burning sensation, like a wildfire, shooting all up and down along her spine until the burn consumed the whole of her body. She screamed, heard her own piercing shriek ring out loud against the silence of the factory basement, echoing sickeningly like some dying animal before fading away into a mere gasp of pain. Vega's eyes glowed in sadistic glee as he watched her body lurch horribly at the impact, licked his lips in absolute pleasure as a fountain of red exploded from her back. She made as if to fall, but he pushed harder against her with his blades, so that her entire body arched sickeningly outwards as her weight fell backwards against his weapon. She was impaled on his claws.

            "Mmmmm… such a delicious little scream."

            Chun-Li felt the blades jam even deeper in her back, bit down hard on her tongue to restrain another shriek which threatened to burst upon the threshold of her lips. She tried to twist away from the assassin's fatal grip, but it was useless. All at once she could feel her strength ebbing away; her sight was blinded by the shower of tears which threatened to burst from her eyes.

            "Do not struggle, little rabbit." Vega spoke softly as he undid his mask, "You'll only make it harder for yourself."

            And she felt the warmth of his hand wrap around her neck, pushing her head lightly backwards until it was level with his own. He was close now. So close she could feel the hot air of his breaths play upon her neck, could sense the gentle pressure of his fingers pressing against her flesh. She shuddered. There was no doubt in her mind of what he was about to do.

            "Such soft skin…" the gentle hiss of his voice whispered into her ear, "So fine… so delicate… I hope you'll enjoy this, inspector. I know I will."

She sensed his hand move down to the nape of her neck, felt the touch of his fingers dance gently upon the flesh of her collar. And as he did so he jammed the cold blades of his claw ever deeper into her body, pushing so that it took all of her willpower to avoid letting out a fresh cry of agony. And now his fingers were sliding further down… down, down, past the rise of her chest, falling to touch upon the fabric of her stomach… and now abruptly rising again, upwards to loop under her sweater, stopping to press itself flat against the bare flesh of her belly…

            "Don't touch me!!" she heard herself scream, felt her body writhe in disgust at the assassin's touch, "Don't you dare touch me!!"

            Vega only grinned.

            "Still so tense, inspector? Why not relax a little and try to enjoy your final moments on earth with me? I promise you, I'll make sure these final moment are also your most… intense…"

            "I'll… I'll kill you…"

            "Oh, I'm sure." He gave another laugh, "But I don't think you're in any position to be making threats, inspector, so please excuse me if I don't take those words all too seriously."

            It… it was too much. She couldn't hold it back anymore. A flood of tears poured down her cheeks as she felt his hands move ever upwards to her chest, the fingers now pausing to linger slowly along the soft cotton surface of her bra strap. She wanted to cry out, wanted with all her soul to scream out the sickening sense of personal violation which swelled through her body; but all that managed to come out was a pitiful little squeak of a voice, a mere shadow of the repressed shriek which screamed aloud in her mind. She stood there braced against Vega's claws— unmoving, helpless, as he toyed with her like some simple child with his new favorite plaything.

            "Cry, little rabbit." His soft voice breathed gently down upon her neck, "Yes… cry… just like that. Let your tears flow down. Let them bath your face in the gentle light of their sparkle. I want to frame this picture forever in my mind… to see the hatred, the anger, the fear… to remember that last look of terror upon your features before you fade away. So go on and cry, little rabbit. Cry for me."

            His last words seemed to stretch and contort; the individual syllables mashed and mixed together to form a near incoherent line of broken speech. She was well aware of the increasing blurriness which was beginning to plague her vision, could feel the ever growing sensation of dizziness which assaulted her head. The blood ran thick down the curve of her back, soaking through her pants, dribbling down her legs to gather in a small pool of red around her feet. 

So this was how it was all going to end. 

Chun-Li… recalled agent for Interpol… raped and killed at the age of twenty-five… a failure to her values… a failure to her father… a failure to herself. She supposed she ought to be upset at it all; but strangely, she found that she hardly cared about dying at the moment. After all… what could death do to her? What could death **_possibly_** do to her?! Relieve her of this pain, this hate, this guilt which haunted her every day of her life? No, death could do nothing. She would be waiting there laughing— laughing as it swallowed her up just as it had swallowed up her mother, her father, her childhood. Maybe if it came fast enough she wouldn't have to live through Vega's torture, or witness this humiliation of being raped.

            No.

            Stop.

            There she went again.

            There she went… again denying her father's memory.

            Denying his values, his love, his dedication.

            Everything he had ever taught her— gone with one clean sweep of the slate.

            Courage, hope, determination.

            These were things he had told her to keep sacred.

            Had she really forgotten it all?

            Was everything really gone?

            "Baba!!"

            And she screamed… a horrible, piercing cry which echoed out resoundingly against the silence of the chamber walls. Chun-Li flailed her arms wildly to the side, swinging at something, anything which might still give her a fighting chance against her assailant. If she was going to die she might as well die with dignity, die fighting for everything her father had taught her to believe in!

            "Oh, what's this?" 

Vega gave a taunting laugh as he pulled backwards, easily dodging the clumsy storm of attacks which beset him from all sides. My, my, she was a stubborn little girl. Even now when he had her so firmly in his grasp, even when she was so close to the edge of death… she still somehow managed to struggle against him. Heh. Heh. Very well then. Let her waste her remaining strength. She would need a miracle now.

            But a miracle was just what she got.

            "HADOU-KEN!!"

            What happened next was a blur, an almost incomprehensible chain of events which barely registered to her befuddled, blood-deprived mind. There was a flash of blue, an explosion of light, and suddenly she found herself sailing through the air, flying as if pushed by a quick and sudden force from behind. A loud scream echoed in her ears as she hit the ground; but this time, the voice was not her own. What was happening? She pushed her upper body upwards to sneak a peak, felt the sharp pain swell agonizingly through her back as she dashed her eyes around the room.

            Through the thick haze of her vision she was vaguely able to make out the figure of the Spanish assassin, his eyes wide open in surprise, his body sprawled out on the cold stone of the nearby floor. He tried to scramble upwards, but hardly had his feet met the ground then a terrific kick sent him flying back down, contorting his body in a chaotic heap to the floor. There, with leg braced upwards beside the assassin, erect body seemingly none the worse for wear, stood the stolid figure, the determined countenance of Ryu.

            And that was all she was able to see. The dizziness swarming in her head was beginning to grow more intense; her sight blurred so badly she could only make out patches of red and white color swimming along with the movements of the fighters. She… she couldn't hold herself up any longer. Her strength ebbed, her arms gave way, and with a sharp gasp of pain she collapsed weakly to the floor.

            But that didn't mean she couldn't tell what was going on. All around her the sounds of battle swelled— the cracks and thuds of kicks and punches mingled loud with the heavy sighing of her own breathing. Screams, grunts, yells… they all at once seemed to rush in a chaotic tumult to her ear, mixing and blending with one another to form one terrific screech which shot painfully through her mind. How long did she lie there for? One minute? One hour? She couldn't tell anymore. Her mind was slipping into a deep state of semi-consciousness; all her thoughts seemed to glide and float on a clouded dream of reality.

            But eventually the sounds faded away; the shrieks and curses of the Spanish assassin died away to be replaced by an almost unnatural aura of silence. Was… was it over? She tried to lift her head to see, but found that the muscles of her neck were no longer responsive to the indistinct commands of her brain. Weak… she felt so weak. She could still feel the blood dribbling heavily downwards from her open wound— each droplet of red was a drip of her life spilling outwards upon the floor. Soon all the warmth of her body would vanish to be replaced by a deathly cold, a chilling testament to the lifeless corpse which would soon take the place of the young girl who lay there now.

            "It looks like you're hurt pretty bad."

            And there came a sudden voice from above her: a soft, gentle whispering of words which glided smoothly against her ears. It… it was him again. Ryu. He had a hand on her shoulder.

            "Here, let me help you."

            Help… help her? Help her?! N… no. She didn't need his help. She didn't want his help! Not there! Not then! Not from him!!

            "Just relax. I'll get you out of here."

            No. No! NO!!! It wasn't going to happen again! Not ever again!! With a scream of anguish she tried to twist around to face him, but found that her muscles were still unresponsive to her brain's commands. How… how dare he?! How dare he do this after all he had done!!

            "Get off me!!"

            She tried to scream, tried to shout out the pain and suffering of all these past months to his ears. But the words came out in an intelligible babble; her tongue seemed to stick at once to the roof of her mouth. And now he had her twisted onto her back, had one arm cradling her head as the other shot under her legs, lifting her high up into the chilliness of the factory air. It was happening again. All over again.

            And for a moment she thought herself once again on the battered streets of the tournament semi-finals— her voice gone, her body broken, her hopes and dreams shattered violently into a million tiny pieces. Helpless. She was so helpless. Now, just as then. Now just as ever. A wetness fell upon her cheeks, dribbled down the side of her face to hang precarious upon the tip of her chin. Tears? Or rain? Rain to wash away the remainders of her dreams, to sweep down the broken fragments forever into the blood-stained waters of the sewage drains.

            And everything happened just like before. The haze of her vision darkened into nothingness; the sounds of the world disappeared into a tranquility of silence. The light faded. The day once again ended. And for the second time in her life, the night closed in with Chun-Li asleep in his arms…

------

Phew. Finally got chapter four out. This one took a lot of effort and a lot of time, but to be honest, I'm completely confused about how it turned out. On the one hand I like it a lot, but on the other hand when I reread certain parts of it I feel like slamming my head through the wall. It's hard for me to judge my own work, so please please give me an honest review of the chapter if you have the time. 

Also, I'd like to give a shout out to everybody who's already reviewed. Thanks a lot. Your support tells me that people are reading this, and helps motivate me to write more. Thanks once again.


	5. Chapter 5 Part 1

            _Note: This section of the story deals with a dream flashback from Chun-Li's childhood. I had originally planned to get it all done in one section, but the chapter was growing way too long, and it was taking way too long, so I figured I might as well just split it into two sections and get the first part out first. Thanks again to everyone who left a review. Part two should be coming out shortly.  A lot shorter than it took to get part one out, anyways._

*****************

Chapter 5

            A thick darkness enshrouded the surrounding scene, blanketing the small, rather cramped interior of the apartment chamber in a veil of shadow, enveloping anything and everything with a covering of black fog far too dense to see through with even the most sensitive of eyes. It collected on the window panes, dashed upon the ancient, feet-worn wood of the apartment floorboards, swirled around the rotted walls and peeling paint in a slow, rhythmic dance of darkness and shadow graceful enough to rival the patterns of even the most talented of artists. And along the breath of the atmosphere it now drifted, coasted, floated… spiraling ever upwards and outwards… expanding and swelling and bulging until it loomed like some twisted monstrosity out of this deepest of nights— a stark and terrible contrast to the grace and elegance of its otherwise almost serene movements. A contradicting picture, indeed.

            And yet even here… even in this portrait of the darkest of nights… even among this congregation of shadow and blackness there still managed to glimmer a sparkle of something from among the blanket of shadow all around. A hint… a shine… a halo… a ring of light expanding outwards from a central source, rising and budding and growing until it barely managed to brush against the surface of the near wall with the very tips of its brilliant fingers. And in the dominating swirl of the darkness all around it now made its stand… hesitating, looking, waiting… wavering uncertainly through the atmosphere of the apartment chamber as if expecting to be swallowed up by the encroaching violence of the black at any moment.

            And in the center of it all, seated at a small wooden desk with her hair tucked neatly backwards by the flowing strands of two golden ribbons, sat perhaps the brightest picture in the room of all. A young girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen at the most, with her hand resting against her chin and a pencil tucked firmly between the slender lengths of her tiny fingers. She was a child of that particular age when, not yet quite on the boundaries of full adulthood, a young girl's features were just beginning to blossom from that cute innocence of childish sweetness into the full splendor of womanly beauty. And all around her the light now seemed to flow, like fireflies around a central source, slowly revolving in a defensive shield against the darkness of the night all around. 

            _Brriiinnnggg-Brriiinnnggg._

            And there came a sudden ringing.

            Loudly.

            Abruptly.

            Noisily screeching forwards from the darkness of the shadows beyond.

            And she turned her head.    

            Flashed her eyes.

            Started as if caught by surprise.

            _Was… was it him?_

            And she couldn't help but let out a  sigh— a strained, tired breath of air which slowly spiraled upwards to mix once again with the heaviness of the atmosphere. Silly! Of… of course it was him. It always was him… it always was him at this time of night. And she bit her lips and creased her brows, unable to restrain a frown at the steadily ringing figure of the telephone in the apartment background.

            _Brriiinnnggg-Brriiinnnggg…BRRRIIINNNGGG…_

And it came again— this time louder, faster, as if in the second ring the tone was somehow more urgent than that of the first. She clenched her fists shut in sudden aggravation, now debating… arguing within herself at whether or not to make the effort to walk the few meters separating herself from the telephone. And why should she?! Why should she bother to even get up?! Didn't she already know who it was; didn't she already know EXACTLY what he was going to say and tell her from his receiver at the other end?

            "It's always the same thing, Baba…"

            The faded breath of another lonesome sigh escaped from the threshold of her lips, accompanied by the almost reluctant noise of a soft moan as she forced herself slowly upwards. Yes. The same thing. It was always the same thing. Every night… every night for the past two weeks he had done this— staying up late at his office at Interpol, calling in to break her heart with the news that once AGAIN he wouldn't be able to make it home on time. And every night she would beg him… plead with him to make a promise to arrive home early the next day, and just like a fool she would believe him, only to have her hopes crushed once again the very next night. Stupid! She was so stupid! Hadn't she smarted up by now? Hadn't she learned not to trust a single word which came out of his mouth?!

            _Brriiinnnggg-Brriiinnnggg…BRRRIIINNNGGG…_

            The ringing of the telephone called out for a third time, shrieking in a loud, tinny voice which was deafening to the ears. Outside she could still hear the noises of the storm continue to rage onwards in a chaotic spiral of beats and echoes— the lashing of the wind against the windowsill, the heavy thumping of the rain against the glass, the booming explosion of the thunder in the dark night sky. All of it seemed to mix and blend into one gigantic tumult of sound, and along with the screaming of the telephone in the apartment background merged together into a discordant trumpeting which was almost unbearable to the ears. Chun-Li found herself walking forwards through the darkness of the interior… groping, stumbling… drawn towards the screeching voice by some invisible force which she could neither see nor feel; but knowing full well that she was going to answer the summons of that telephone whether she liked it or not.

            "Why… why do you always have to do this, Baba…?"

            And with one final sigh of discontentment she felt her hands close upon the cold plastic mold of the receiver; with one final surge of resistance she was able to momentarily hold back. It was almost strange… how she held such a close connection with her father, despite the fact that she rarely ever was able to spend any time with him anymore. For three months out of the year he was gone, gone to some forsaken land on one of those goose-brained chases thought up by those monkeys over at Interpol; and for the remainder of the time when he was actually here— for the remaining nine months when he would actually stay with her at their old apartment home in downtown Beijing— every day he would work late into the wee hours of the early morning, returning only after the heavy hands of the sandman had already closed her eyes in the bitterness of unwanted sleep. It was so unfair.

            And yet… and yet she could remember a time…

            A time long past… a time so long ago that the recollections of it was all but enshrouded in a thick haze of broken memories, fading in and out of the corners of her mind like some distant dream to be remembered only in the deep slumber of sleep. There used to be a time when she had a father… a mother… and all together under the shelter of one roof, linked together in that sacred relationship between husband, wife, and daughter which should and ought to be the basis and foundation of every family. She could remember her father—her always strong-willed father— carrying her on his shoulders or walking with her under the warm breath of a stiff summer's breeze. And right beside him, her mother— walking in stride— with her arm linked through her father's or with her finger's delicately intertwined with the tiny digits of her own. 

            Her mother…

            All that remained of her were fragments of memories, pieced together from the inner regions of her mind to produce at least a sketchy picture of who she had been. These were clouded images of a woman… tall… pretty… with brilliant black eyes and hair even darker than her own, holding a child in her arms and humming the sweet tunes of some forgotten lullaby to the stillness of the surrounding air. And the milky words would wash over the ears of the little babe, comforting her, soothing her, serenading her until the lids of her eyes would finally droop downwards into a peaceful state of sleep. It was almost saddening how these were all that she had of her mother; but there were always the figures of those two mementos— those two golden ribbons which flowed in her hair— to remind her of just how much she used to care for her. 

            Perhaps that was why she felt so attached to her father. He was the only person she had left…

             _Brriiinnnggg-Brriiinnnggg…BRRRIIINNNGGG…_

            The obnoxious ringing of the telephone once again sounded out of the darkness in front of her, immediately startling her out of the semi-conscious state of reverie in which she had settled. And Chun-Li bit her lips, blinked her eyes, flashed a violent glare at the figure of the receiver, feeling at the same time a sudden rush of anger surge immediately through her. He was all that she had left! All that she had left! Yet still he couldn't find some time to spend with her; still he would rather spend all his days cooped up in that damned office of his at Interpol!

            Well, no more! 

            No more! Enough was enough! She wasn't going to just stand by this time; this time she was going to make sure that her voice was heard! If he thought that she was still just some little child who could be pushed around as he pleased, then he was dead wrong! With one vicious motion she pulled at the receiver, and promptly pressed the plastic of the mouth-piece hard against the surface of her lips.

            "Yes, Baba?!" she heard herself hiss, the words surging forward in a tone even harder than she had originally intended, "What do you want?!"

            _"Interesting… I wonder if Inspector Xiang always allows his daughter to speak to him like this…"_

            And she froze. 

            _"But of course I suppose it is to be expected. A man as weak as he cannot possibly have hoped of ever raising a disciplined daughter."_

            W… what? It… it wasn't the voice of her father who had just answered from the other end. Instead it was someone else… a cold, hard voice which chilled her to the very soul.

            "H… hello…?" she ventured uncertainly, feeling all her determination immediately ebb away with the sudden realization, "Who is this?"

            It laughed.

            "_It doesn't matter who I am, child. Although I'm sure you're father knows well enough by now."_

"My father…?"

            _"Yes, child. You're father. He stuck his hand where it didn't belong, and it got burned."_

            Chun-Li forced a swallow. The voice was like a dagger in the surrounding silence… cruelly… violently piercing at her heart-strings with the enunciation of each and every syllable that came. It was a hiss, at once altogether soft and hard, but at the same time conveying an overbearing sense of coldness which was almost unbearable. What… what was he talking about? How did he know her father?

            "I don't know what you're talking about."

            _"Of course you don't, child."_ The voice answered in a droning hiss, _"I wouldn't expect you to. You're father, after all, was only all too eager to protect his little girl."_

She couldn't help but shiver.

            "Who is this?" she repeated again, unable to restrain a frown at the cryptic words, "I'm going to hang up if you don't tell me."

            Another laugh. 

            _"Tsk. Tsk. Such a persistent girl… stubborn… exactly like her father. Very well then,  tell me… has he ever said much about the specifics of his job?"         _ 

            "N… no." She tried to hold her voice steady.

            _"Well then allow me clue you in." _The droning picked up into an almost jovial chuckle, as if it drew some measure of satisfaction from the apparent apprehension in her voice,_ "You're father, as an officer at Interpol, spends much of his time chasing after various drug rings around the world. Truly it is a terrible pity that one of those drug rings just so happens to have been one by the name of 'Shadowloo.'"_

"Shadowloo?"

            _"Yes child. Shadowloo. **My** Shadowloo. And to tell the truth, I don't particularly like it when someone tries to threaten what's **mine**._

Chun-Li immediately felt her blood run cold. Shadowloo… she had heard her father make mention of it before… and always with a hidden stutter, as if it was the only thing in the world which could visibly shake him. And all at once she could feel the rhythm of her breathing began to spiral and accelerate; the rapid beatings of her heart immediately made a quick leap and jump into the very base of her throat.

            "Just what are you saying?!" she heard herself burst out, the rhythm and volume of her voice immediately accelerating with the sharp rise of her panic, "Just what are you talking about?!"

            _"My dear child," _the voice continued in that self-same chuckle, "_Allow me to make myself completely clear. If only your father had understood clearly… if only he had known when to press and when to stop… if only he had remained ignorant of the true consequences of his actions… then perhaps he could have continued to live onwards with you— just as content as he was blind."_

She felt her tongue stick at once to the back of her throat.

            _"But he was a fool. He pressed onwards when he wasn't supposed to; he tried too hard to look into matters which were never meant for him to know in the first place. He delved too deeply, too intensely, and in time began to understand… began to understand things which I, as a fair and respected business man, couldn't possibly allow to get out. So you do understand, don't you?" _he finished with a hearty laugh, _"You're father had to be… silenced."_

            And the color rapidly drained from the sides of her face. This… this couldn't be for real. Could… could it?!

            "Why… why have you called me?" She stuttered, trying her very best to control the rhythm of her voice, but failing miserably, "What do you want?!"

            _"What do I want?" _he laughed again, silently mocking her with that same hissing tone of voice, _"What do I want? Indeed, what **do** I want? Quite simply, I want nothing more than to reunite a daughter with her father, who at this very moment desires only to stare upon the sparkling face of his daughter for one last time."_

            She bit down hard on her tongue. This… this couldn't be for real. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be…

            _"But unfortunately, I'm afraid that he might not last long enough to see her, for he is in quite a bad state, you see. But who knows? Perhaps if she's fast enough she might just arrive in time to stop the bleeding, and possibly drag him to some hospital to save his life."_

"You're lying!" she heard herself suddenly burst out, feeling at the same time the fast beatings of her heart make a quick skip in agitation, "My father is fine! You… you're just…"

_            "Am I? Am I, little girl? Or do you simply not wish accept it? I have told you of your father's state, and it is up to you to believe or disbelieve me as you wish. But you do see it, don't you? Your father is going to **die **without your help."_

**_            No._**

The full reality of the words hit her like ice water on a cold winter day, simultaneously stunning and chilling her to the very core. And she found suddenly that she couldn't speak. She couldn't. All the words bottled up like the waters of a dam on the edge of her tongue, passionately, desperately calling for a release which she couldn't handle. She struggled for something… anything… to free herself from the barrage of inner emotions which exploded within her, but all that managed to come out was a single word— a single sound to express all the fright, anger, and bewilderment which surged through her soul:

            "W… where?"

            _"Now there's an obedient girl."_ The voice chortled derisively in approval, _"Obedient enough to make old daddy proud, I bet. Very well… he is being held here in Longlanhu park, at the very edges of the little pond which runs through the center. I'm sure you know of the place. However…" _his voice suddenly dropped into a dangerous hiss, _"I'd suggest that you come alone. I'm afraid that any extra attention might just be… hazardous… to his health."_

She forced a swallow. Longlanhu park? Yes, she was familiar with the place. Her father had taken many walks with her there as a child.

            _"I sincerely do hope to see you there, child. And for your father's sake, I hope you don't do anything stupid. That is all."_

And just as suddenly as it had started, the line went abruptly dead.

**********

            So she ran.          

She ran fast and hard, as quickly as her two legs would carry her.

            Quicker…

            Faster…

            Harder…

            More passionately… more obsessively than she had ever ran before…

            And down the paved streets of old Beijing her feet pounded, splashing in the puddles of the avenue lanes, drumming against the crackled stone of the concrete in a frenzied, chaotic rhythm of beats and taps so fast as to be indistinguishable to all but the most practiced of ears. Up. Down. Up. Down. Faster. Faster. Even faster! All around her the cold voice of the wind screamed and howled— lashing against her face, biting into the warmth of her flesh with such ferocity that her cheeks glowed bright with the merciless pain of their winter sting. And the rain poured down in a torrent from the heights of the sky above… falling, plummeting in a flood so fast that all of the heavens seemed to be ripping open in a confused portent of the end of the world, and all the world was bathed in the eternal pour of the angel's tears. It was unending.

            But she ignored it.

            She ignored it all, ignored the unyielding coldness of the winter night, ignored the flood of droplets which beat down relentlessly upon her head. And the throbbing burn which coursed all through her legs; and the surging pain which accompanied the arrival of each and every step… these she ignored too, gritting down hard upon her teeth to restrain the deluge of tears which welled up in her eyes. She couldn't stop. She couldn't. Even though all of her lungs felt like they were aflame; even though all of her lower body was on the brink of collapse; even though every single muscle in her entire body screamed aloud for the intake of more oxygen than she was physically capable of… still... still she must go on. This wasn't a game anymore. 

            This was life or death…

            So she ran ever onwards, telling her legs to churn for a little more… just a little more until the park. To the left and right the scenery of old Beijing flashed by in a heartbeat— the portrait of a city and country finally turning the corner into the modern age. All around the signs of construction loomed— the tearing down of a building here, the expansion of the schoolhouse there— and would have seemed to any discerning tourist to foreshadow the growth of a city fast on the rise. But of course these she ignored too as she thundered down the streets and alleyways of China's capital, fixing her eyes sternly upon the path in front of her, focusing all of her mind solely on the task at hand.

            "Ba… baba…"

            Baba. Her Baba. Her father. It was only half an hour ago that she had been ready to curse him, ready to shout at him with all her heart and soul about the uncaring nature of his job. But now look at her, running through the deserted streets on a night like this, when not even the stray dogs dared challenge the violence of the winter storm. It was almost strange. Never in her life had she understood just how much she really valued and cared for him as when she was about to lose him.

            "Hang on, Baba… I'm coming…"

            And her legs churned even harder, the mere thought of it driving her onwards until all the pain and aches of her body seemed a mere afterthought to the importance of what she was about to lose. Soon the familiar gates of Longlanhu park loomed upwards before her, and she exploded right through, not bothering to flash a single glance backwards towards the swinging figures of the park gates in the winter wind. And now she was sprinting along the path… that same dirt path that she had trod so often as a little girl…

            And there came back memories of that day…

            That day so many years ago…

            When her father had strode along that path beside her, and she had picked flowers at his side…

            When the bright rays of the sun had beat down so softly upon the dirt path in front of her, enshrouding the earth in a halo of warm light…

            And she had marveled…

            Wondered…

            At the figures of the two golden ribbons lying in her hands…

            She quickly shook the thought away. Don't. Don't think of it, Chun-Li. Don't even think of it. Already the tears were beginning to form at the edge of her eyelids; already she could feel the swell of her emotions building up fast within her. Stop. Stop it! Don't even think of it! He was going to be fine; he wasn't just going to die! Through all these years they had already endured so much together— endured everything from the death of her mother to his promotion as a top officer at Interpol—  and to think… to think that this was how it was all going to end… with him dying… slowly bleeding to death in this very place… it… it wasn't going to happen! She wasn't going to let it happen! She was going to make SURE that he walked down that same path with her again!  

            And she gritted her teeth and ran ever onwards, keeping her eyes fixed steadily on the path in front of her. A little further. Just a little further. On both sides the familiar figures of trees and bushes rushed by in an indistinct blur of gray and white— the mighty trunks, the strength and majesty of the once powerful branches already having been sapped away by the coldness of the winter air. And she puffed her chest and squeezed her hands, forcing her legs to move just a little bit faster, just a little bit further until her father.

            And she saw it.

            In the distance, in a small clearing surrounded by trees, stood the recognizable setting, the familiar waters of Longlanhu pond. 

            It was an almost deceptively peaceful scene. Chun-Li burst upon it in a flurry of speed, almost immediately collapsing to the ground in a violent fit of panting and rasping. And as the sharp gasps of her own voice quickly spiraled upwards to mix with the darkness of the atmosphere, she couldn't help but notice the tremendous aura of silence which hang thick about the place. Quiet. It was so quiet. So quiet that not even the splattering of the rain could be heard to make any noticeable thud against the grass of the background; so quiet that the only noise was the sharp rasping of her own breath, rushing forward in a fit so fast that the entirety of her lungs felt like they were going to explode from the pressure.

            It was as if all the world was waiting for something…

            But what?

            "Baba!" she heard herself cry out, feeling all the emotion of her soul once again threaten to burst upon her eyes in a fast deluge of tears, "Baba! Where… where are you?!"

            There came nothing. The silence spread infinitely in all directions— an ominous, terrible plain of quiet which froze her blood and chilled her very heart. All around the rain came down in sheets upon the waters of Longlanhu pond, splashing against her face, soaking her in a coldness so heavy that it pasted against her skin in a frigid taste of the winter air, stealing the very warmth of her breath away with the unrelenting grip of its coldness. She told herself to keep calm, tried with all her desperation to keep her breaths steady with the rhythmic beating of her heart. But it was so hard. What if she was already too late?

            "Baba!" she called out again, frantically screaming out all of her frustration into the darkness of the Beijing night, "Baba please… please answer me!"

            "… li-li…?"   

            And she froze. There, out of the silence directly in front of her there had sounded a voice— a soft whisper of words so weak as to be barely audible to all but the most sensitive of ears. But she had heard it, and at its sound she felt her heart immediately make a leap.

            "Baba?" she scarcely dared to breath, "Baba? Is… is that you?"

            "… l… li-li… d… don't…"

            Her eyes followed the sound. And on the near bank she spotted a barely visible patch of black— a shadowy figure even darker than the color of the night all around. Chun-Li swallowed. 

            "Baba!"

            All at once she could feel her emotions once again swelling upwards, this time building and building until it exploded in a fair eruption of tears down the front of her face. She couldn't hold it back anymore. She couldn't. With a whimper of simultaneous hope and fear she scrambled to her feet, wanting with all her heart to cry out all the bottled up feelings of anger, panic, and frustration which surged within her soul. But the scream couldn't seem to find a voice through the already tired maze of her airways— it caught in the middle of her throat— and all that managed to cough up was a single squeal, a single high-pitched squeak of emotion to mirror the tempest raging fast within her. With the tears gushing down her face she ran towards him, hoping, praying with all her heart that he wasn't hurt too badly.

            But at the sight of it she abruptly stopped.

            Her heart seemed to halt.

            Her tears froze in place.

            Her mouth ran dry.

            Every single muscle in her entire body seemed to simultaneously tighten its grip.

            And her skin began to crawl.

            And her soul seemed to die.

            And she screamed. 

            A terrible, soundless scream to the darkness of the atmosphere.

            Echoing out horribly against the silence of the night, framing that picture forever in the depths of her mind.

            A hellish image to haunt her…

            A demonic portrait to trouble her for the rest of her life…

            A snapshot of her father, slumped down upon the chill of the winter ground, shivering and gasping unlike she had ever seen him before. And there was blood… so much blood… so much blood everywhere. Blood gathered in a pool around his figure; blood soaked into the very fabric of his clothes; blood seeping out of various cuts and gashes along the length of his body to spill downwards into tiny rivulets of red along the waters of the pond. And where one of his arms had been, there was only a stump— a single blotch of red to glow almost unnaturally in the darkness of the late night. And where his other arm had been, there only remained a mangled piece of flesh, singed to a blackened perfection and dangling by the precarious strand of a single sinew to the exposed bone of his shoulder-blade. And downwards, ever downwards from the bloody mess of his chin, downwards to the region of his stomach where all the blood seemed to at once gather and corrugate— down there lay exposed a gaping wound across the length of his abdomen, glaring forth like some twisted smile out of the darkness to reveal a portion of his small intestines. It… it was too much. Chun-Li felt herself go weak, felt all the visions of her head swoon to the dizzying array of blood and gore littered disgustingly before her, felt her legs fall and give way to the frozen coldness of the winter ground.

            She retched.

            She retched hard, feeling all the vomit come in droves up the sides of her throat, bathing all of her mouth in the sour stench of it's odor. But this… at least this… even this was preferable to the nauseating smell of rotting meat which assaulted her senses, filling her nostrils until all her head swam with the putrid stink of its breath. She tried to push herself upwards, attempted with all her remaining strength to force herself up into a standing position, but the mere thought of it was enough to drain away all the lasting vigor and resolve from her limbs. Her lips quivered, her arms gave way, and she once again fell to the coldness of the ground below, hysterically sobbing out all the anguish and bewilderment of her heart to the darkness of the Beijing night. How… how could this… how could this be…?

            "Ba… baba… I'm sorry baba… I'm so sorry… I… I couldn't…"

            "Li-Li…"

            The voice of her father interrupted out of the surrounding silence, harsh, dry, choked as if all the words caught immediately in the middle of his throat. And at its touch she felt her heart crack, sensed at once all the fear and pain which coursed throughout his tone. It… it was almost unbearable. She raised her eyes upwards to look at him, wanting to say something— anything— to relieve this suffering which was so painfully enunciated with each and every word. But she couldn't. She couldn't do it. It was so hard.

            "Li-Li…" She could hear him once again, rasping forwards in a tone so weak that it seemed to take all of his strength to pronounce each syllable, "Li-Li… you… you shouldn't have come here. I didn't… want you to see this…"

            She bit down hard on her lips. "Baba…"

            "You shouldn't be here. Please… leave…"

            "Baba …" it took all she had just to get the words out, "… I … I've come to help you."

            Help me?" he couldn't help but gasp out, as if each breath took with it a little bit more of the life from his rapidly weakening body, "Do you really think you can help me, Li-Li? Do you?!"  

Silence. A thick aura of quiet descended upon the surrounding scene, spreading and extending until it bathed all of the environment in the stifling grip of its hush. Chun-Li looked upon her father's battered body, saw the rips, the cuts, the slashes, and could feel everything rush upon her tongue in a frenzied shriek of her inner voice. But she swallowed it down, stifled the cry at its root and forced it back to swell within her throat, so that the only thing which came to her mouth was a silent whimper to mix with the deepness of the night around her. No. He was right. She couldn't help him. She couldn't help him at all. But she had to try. At the very least…. she had to try…

"I'm sorry." She choked out, the warmth of her eyes once again spilling down her cheeks in a fast flood of tears, "I'm so sorry, baba."

            And she started moving. With a final spluttering in her throat she forcibly restrained the violent churning of her stomach, and slowly inch by inch began to crawl towards the prostrate figure of her father upon the ground. And now she could see it all— could see the gaping wounds, the tattered flesh, the blood-drained skin up close in all its horrific glory, drenched in a thin film of the darkest red and glittering like some demonic jewel out of the black of the night. She felt her head spin, felt all her lasting resolve waver at the sensations which swelled through her, felt her entire body tremble at the nauseating sight littered upon the ground.

             "Baba…" was all she managed to choke out, a single tear-strained word to mirror the surge of emotion deep within her, "Baba…"

            "Li-Li?" her father looked upwards at her, "What are you doing? Didn't you hear what I just said?"

            "I… I…"

            "Leave." He repeated, unable to restrain a wince at the pain of it all, "Please… leave."

            "I… I can't…"

            "You can't?" he flashed a frown at her, "What do you mean you can't? Of course you can. Now leave!"

            "N… no… I… I can't…"

            She steadied herself. And with one swift motion she forced off her sweater, pulling off the coarsely knit wool over her head so that all that was left was a thin gray undershirt to weather the furies of the nightly storm. Extending one hand to slowly tilt his head forwards, she rolled the cloth underneath— a crude, make-shift pillow to support his weight.

            "Hold still." She could hear herself saying, her whole voice shaking at the enormous effort it was taking just to get it out, "Please hold still."

            "Child…" A slow, exasperated sigh escaped from the surface of his lips, "You can't save me."

            "Don't say that."

            "You can't save me." He repeated, his whole body quivering at the speech, "You know you can't save me… so why… must you persist?"

            She forced a dry swallow. "I guess I'm just stubborn."

            "Stubborn?" he closed his eyes in pain, "Yes child, I'll give you that. You've always been a stubborn one. Stubborn… exactly like your mother."

            He opened them. And the usually clear surface of his eyes seemed suddenly clouded, milky, the silent eyes of a man fast nearing death. With a harsh cough he tried to open them even wider, as if trying desperately to hang onto the last vestiges of life.

            "Listen, Li-Li…" he gave another hacking cough— a hard, callous, heaving of the chest which forced a splutter of crimson upwards from the red of his lips, "…I… I really didn't want you to see this. But since you're here I want to tell you something. I want to tell you something… important."

            He stopped to catch his breath. And at once the already white surface of his skin seemed to grow even paler, as if the mere thought of it was enough to inspire some kind of deep-seated anguish within him.

            "Baba?" she stared at him with tear-filled eyes, "What… what is it?"

He let out another sigh.

"I've been blind. I've been blind for far too long. I've been blind for all 

my life…"

            "Blind?"

            "Yes, Li-Li. Blind." He forced a dry swallow, "Blind in all that I've done. Blind in all I have accomplished. All these years I've been living a lie— a blind, sightless game of cat and mouse in which there is no winner and no loser. Blind… ignorant… completely oblivious to everything which was so plain, everything which should have been so clear and easy to see." 

            He paused. For a moment he seemed to check himself, frozen, as if he wasn't sure of the wisdom to continue onwards. But a second later and he had overcome it, and quickly continued in that same rasping tone of voice.

            "Listen, Li-Li." His voice shook visibly at the effort, "Listen to me carefully. What I'm about to tell you is very important. It's not… something to be taken lightly. I need you to get the word out, to tell as many people as you possibly can. Li-Li… can… can… you do this for me?"

            "What do you mean?" She stared perplexedly at him, crying, feeling everything rush upwards in a violent surge of her inner emotions. "I… I don't understand…"

            "Can you do this for me?!" He repeated, his whole tone suddenly gripped with a tremendous sense of urgency, "Answer me that first… can you do it?!"

            "Y… yes. Of course" 

            "Good…" He slowly leaned his head backwards, squeezing his eyes shut once more at the enormous pain which coursed all through his body, "I'm glad, Li-Li. I've always been able to count on you. But you must understand… you must understand there are some things in this world which can never be anticipated. Shadowloo… for all my life I've been chasing after it, like some obsessed, hunger-driven dog chasing after his bone. But now I understand… I understand everything."

            "Baba?" 

            "Yes, Li-Li." For a moment his voice seemed to steady; his whole tone seemed to momentarily grow stronger, "I do understand it now. All these past years have been wasted, but now... but now I will make up for it. Shadowloo and Interpol… there is so much more then I ever dared to know. There is…"

            _"That's quite enough, Inspector."_

            He froze. And all of a sudden all the remaining blood seemed to drain from his cheeks, as if with the utterance of that phrase his heart had immediately stopped beating. There, out of the silence directly behind them there had interrupted a voice— a cold, hard voice which sounded only all too familiar to the recent memory of her inner ear.

            _"You would really dare to heap all this sensitive information on your own daughter's head? Really, inspector, it would be a terrible shame if we were forced to cut it off. "_

            Chun-Li felt her blood freeze cold. That voice… that very same voice who had answered over the telephone at the other end, gripping… freezing her soul and forcing all of her heart under the frightening chill of it's grasp. At it's touch she could feel all the muscles of her body began to immediately tighten, could sense every sinew and tendon cringe backwards in an enormous fit of fear. With a furtive glance she peeked backwards over her shoulder, anticipating, fearing what she would see framed there against the blackness of the Beijing night.

            It was _him._


End file.
